Original subtitles

One!

SUMMER

Leningrad, the early '80s

- Have they started? - Just now.

Quick, back!

Come on, come on. In here. Hurry up.

Look at this.

I board it up, nail it up, and they still get in.

Maybe I should electrify it.

- Yeah, with AC... - Don't get smart with me.

They're like cockroaches, I swear.

My saviour.

That was lucky.

Quiet...

Come.

...just take some plywood, and close it off. Like that.

- And this one? - This one, too.

Well, well! Hi, girls.

Hello.

- Have you come to hear us? - Of course.

Okay, see you out there. You promised!

You sold my guitar You bought yourself a coat

All day long, They're calling you

Sorry, but I don't know who

It's a long time Since I've cared

Carry on, babe! Brisk and brave!

You're trash!

You beg money for pins But spend it on

All your friends

Thank God, people like you won't have kids...

- Natasha, help me out. - What?

Well sorry, baby But you're a record breaker

You're trash!

Ira, hurry up.

Oh, screw them.

You're trash!

What's going on over there?

We'll sort it out.

Artyom!

It's not allowed.

- Why? - Not allowed.

But it's for the band.

We love them.

Girls! Natasha, leave it.

Okay, fine, all right. We'll put it away.

When you lie to my face

I feel like I could kill you

I think we're peas From two different pods

But another piece of trash Is gonna take your place

You're trash!

You're trash!

Listen to me

You're trash!

Well?

Mike, it was... amazing.

It's so artless and ugly

with such horrible, disgusting rhymes.

That song, Trash, is a hit!

I'd bet half the room was singing along.

- Drink? - Go on.

Others have babes backstage, we have blokes and booze.

Ilya, are you crazy?

The corridor stinks of your weed.

It's a lovely smell.

May I?

We're all naked.

So can I come in?

Hi.

Mike Vassilievitch, can I talk to you for a minute?

A gift from your fans

and an admirer.

That was great.

I thought so, too.

Oh, you liked it, too?

Right.

No cameras.

Without scandalous love affairs,

rock star biographies are pointless!

Natasha, how's the scandal going?

Keep dreaming.

Well done.

What can I say? Well done.

Thanks, on behalf of the rock club.

Thanks for the thanks.

So this is Zoopark. Who's up next?

Strange Games are on now, then it's Ashes.

That's right, Ashes...

He's a really cool guy.

We have good songs, Viktor. That's what counts.

And what about Boris?

Well, he's a tricky one.

You need to agree on a time in advance, or he won't be home.

Mike's easier.

And he'll actually listen to our songs.

I bet loads of people approach Mike with their songs.

Lads, come join us!

Come on over. Don't worry, we don't bite.

No thanks.

Will you join me in a bottle, lads?

No thanks, we don't drink.

Summer

Sun is out and I'm fried

No money, but I've got time

And I don't need money anyway

Summer

I bought a newspaper in town

Got nothing to wash it down

So I'll go and find some beer

Summer

A big concert today

A bit of this and that, We'll play

So should I go, or just stay?

Summer

Thugs carry knuckle dusters

As they pursue their vendettas

But I just don't care

Summer

Trousers worn down to a thread

I smoke another cigarette

And wander to the riverbed

Summer!

I recently heard someone say

There's a comet on the way

Gonna blow us all to bits

Summer

Take off your glasses. We never see your eyes.

What do you need them for?

For posterity.

We should rehearse more, for posterity.

Those who can't play should rehearse!

Can we be your backing singers?

See Natasha over there?

She thinks female backing singers dilute garage rock.

Yep, I don't think she likes it.

Oh, come on!

God, you're so boring, Mike!

A married man!

Artists can't be tied down by family. Don't tie Mike down!

Nobody's tying him down.

Mick Jagger wouldn't get you.

But he doesn't have Natasha.

Because Natasha doesn't have Mick Jagger!

Who needs Mick when I have Mike?

Hi!

- Hi guys. - Hi, Punk invited us.

Punk!

Your friends!

Hi!

What, who's there?

Viktor, Lyosha...

- Hi. - Hi.

We're here to see Mike.

Hey, these guys are impostors. I've never seen them before!

Mike!

We have some impostors for you!

Hi!

Mind if we join you? We bought some wine.

Good or bad, it was all they had.

Guys, look, there are two types of wine:

good and very good.

- What are you drinking? - A '72 Burgundy.

Is Moldovan okay?

Sure it is.

Thank you.

I'm Lyosha.

Mike. Nice to meet you.

And this is Vitka... I mean, Viktor.

We're big fans of yours. Your songs are great.

The dude speaks the truth. Have a drink.

Viktor.

Mike.

Doesn't look like him.

Sorry, but what's that for?

For making music.

What kind of music?

Songs.

By Soviet composers?

Yeah, Soviet! No, mine and Lyosha's.

Want some watermelon?

Yes, please.

So what's your band called?

Nothing.

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for Nothing!

Nothing will be playing with Barely Anything.

The Do-Nothings.

They're called The Do-Nothings.

Guys, enough! You don't have to be mean.

Maybe, The Parasites?

We're not parasites,

I work in the theatre.

True, by the way.

Our man Lyosha is in the theatre. A stagehand.

Viktor's an artist. Woodwork.

Let me translate.

Viktor's doing woodwork at

vocational school. A blue collar boy.

Viktor, play something for us, maybe some of your early work.

Before that...

What's that you're drinking?

Moldovan.

Before it makes you forget how.

Well?

- What, right now? - ...no, tomorrow!

Stop it.

Some white wine?

Sure.

You were going to sing. Come on, then.

I want to smoke.

Me too. Can I have one?

I only have dark tobacco.

I only smoke that.

I bought this amp with my father's inheritance,

so we were all drinking at my place.

Viktor was there, too, playing bass.

He said he'd started to write songs.

Natasha!

Mike!

Didn't you make a promise?

You promised to manage

the cultural heritage of a great band...

- From which band? - You know which one.

Viktor, they're waiting!

We've all got drinks.

Finally, she'll cause a scandal,

and we'll have to hide from society!

To you.

Natasha, it's served!

I'm coming.

Spider! There's a spider!

"See my face, not a trace of reality.

"Look into my face, no reality."

Mike, the guys are about to sing.

"I don't work. I just speed. That's all I need."

"I don't work, just get high..."

That word means "work", right?

Yeah.

"That's all I need."

"I'm a lazy sod,

"I'm a lazy sod."

It's about me.

- Here. - Thanks.

...But the phone will ring

Someone at the door will knock Or on the street

will scream

"Stop sleeping!"

And a drunken voice will say

"Give me something To gobble up"

My friends go through life

Marching

They only ever stop for a beer

My home was empty

Now it's bursting with life

And time and again

My friends gather there, Drink wine

The toilet's been busy, For a time

Broken window, that's fine

But frankly, I don't care

My friends go through life

Marching

They only ever stop for a beer

Great song.

Isn't it?

Yeah.

Just a draft, it's not done yet.

- Really? - If it's good, it's good.

Play Slacker.

I walk

I walk alone

I walk

I walk alone

What's next

I don't know

I have no home

And no one's home

I'm a spare part

A car that won't start

I'm a slacker

I'm a slacker

Viktor, sorry but,

the end should say I'm a slacker, Mama, Mama.

May Mama always be here!

I'm a slacker, Mama, Mama...

Follow me!

Come on, let's go.

Go on.

Let's go. Take it all off!

Wait! I'm coming!

My knickers are burning!

I've thought of a name for them.

Garin and the Hyperboloids.

Cool. Which one's Garin?

Doesn't matter. It sounds good.

Well, yeah.

...worshipping of the West.

The state has given you an education.

The state has taught you... What for?

So that you build a house, start a family,

and plant a tree.

But you scream like a beast!

Asshole.

The Sex Pistols scream. I howl.

I have my own unique style.

And you sing our enemies' songs!

The Sex Pistols are simple working men.

Like the Beatles. Not enemies.

Never mind.

Not enemies?

America is our enemy.

And who else?

You sing the songs of our ideological enemy.

Pop stars sing. I howl. Remember?

I'll call the police.

"I'll call the police!" Call them.

What is this behaviour?

He's a lowlife! Comrade, deal with him.

I'm a punk!

Punk? He's a degenerate.

Fun's over, guys.

Teach him to love his motherland, comrades.

Come on!

They'll show you now!

Bye, guys. I'm off.

Get your papers out.

What the hell!

Yeah, and again!

There's more where that came from!

You insulted him first. We're all witnesses.

Upon request of many listeners,

we'll now play a song by the band "Talking Heads"

entitled Psycho Killer.

"No, I can't seem to face up to the facts.

"I'm tense and nervous

"and I can't relax.

"I can't sleep because my bed is on fire.

"Don't touch me.

"I'm a real live wire."

You bastard Komsomol Comrades!

Kill me right away! I'm lowlife scum!

...no I'm not!

I'm a punk!

DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE

THIS DID NOT HAPPEN

They'll make a patriot of you!

Here's my stop!

All right, easy there.

Okay, see you later, guys. Until next time.

Get off me!

You insulted him first.

This guy here, we're all witnesses.

You can't just attack people.

Go to hell!

They filmed that in Vyborg last summer.

The girls told me,

they were in the crowd scenes, pretending to be English.

It's probably nothing like England.

Nothing at all.

A cardboard England in a Baltic swamp.

Not quite Soviet, not quite Western...

It's like some third place.

Somewhere quite cosy.

- Shall I change the channel? - Leave it.

Well then, is it bedtime?

Shall we go to bed?

I have to finish the cover art.

They want to hear the record tomorrow.

Who's "Blondie"? I don't know her.

Blondie is a band.

Debbie Harry is the singer. It's New Wave.

Viktor, the slacker, said that New Wave is the future.

The slacker decides what music you listen to now?

He doesn't decide anything, we just exchanged a few words.

The album isn't working out.

It will. Why wouldn't it?

You just need to stop being so lazy.

But that's my best quality.

Laziness has kept me out of trouble many times.

That's true.

What does Blondie sing about?

"Call me Any day or night.

"Call me anytime." Something like that.

Buttons, bits and bobs

Dimes, dice and doorknobs

This is where my tractors roam

This is where I count my numbers

Where I plant Aluminium cucumbers

On a tarpaulin field

Where I plant Aluminium cucumbers

On a tarpaulin field

I woke up, it's daytime I'm dressed, in my armchair

Recognise the wallpaper Of my tiny room

Waited for you all night

I wonder who you spent it with

My sweet N

Like that? Or the blues?

And when I came home

I found you asleep, And left you so

Didn't wanna make a scene

Hey Lou Reed, hi Dylan!

But shit, Dylan sings about Vietnam,

and a falsely accused black boxer.

What do you sing about, Mike?

What's your rock 'n' roll about?

This is the music of a happy, well-fucking-adjusted guy

who doesn't give a... about how screwed his country is,

nor who his girlfriend sleeps with.

Dude, you heard of a lyrical hero?

Does he give a... about anything?

First, kill your inner skeptic.

Second, when the artist...

So kill me.

Do it.

Here.

By the way there's a totally ridiculous song by Sweet,

Lies in Your Eyes.

Yeah, totally ridiculous.

I wonder what it would be in Russian.

"Fear in your eyes".

"Muck in your eyes".

It's complete shit.

But in saying "complete", do you mean

"perfect"? Think about that.

And when I came home

I found you asleep, And left you so

Didn't wanna make a scene

This did not happen. Nor will it.

...I figured, does it really matter

With whom, where, you slept?

My sweet N

Should we do it like The Sex Pistols?

- Okay, from the chorus. - The chorus?

My mood depends on the number of beers I've drunk

Stop.

Why don't we make it more lyrical?

More relaxed, listen.

Wait.

My mood depends

On the number of beers I've drunk

Nobody needs me...

You're always trying to do something to change my songs.

Why don't we just sing them?

But Viktor, they're...

They're like kids' songs.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Is that bad?

If we're punks then it's fine.

We're not punks.

Not punk, not rock 'n' roll.

Like, neither fish nor fowl.

Who are we then? Who are you?

Viktor...

Let's go!

On the misted-up Window of a tram

I trace bad words With my finger...

Come here, to Mummy.

Making a racket again tonight?

We'll be quiet, Evgenia, promise.

He hasn't eaten, you must feed him.

I will right now. Thank you.

Mummy missed you. Let's eat some porridge, Zhenia.

You said you got a C in Geography

For all I care it could be a D

You said someone got beat Over something you did

My silence speaks volumes We keep walking

Eighth grade girl

Give me Zhenia.

I need to spend some time with him.

Look at the time. It's bedtime.

Go take a break. It's fine.

My pet...

Can you not smoke near the baby?

It's so easy with you And you're proud of me

You love your dolls And your balloons

But at ten on the dot Mama's waiting for you

Eighth grade girl...

Getting better.

Just a draft, it's not done yet.

I wrote it this morning.

I don't like Mike's songs.

But this one's good. True to life.

What do you know about life except vodka?

Look, it's a hit already.

Like the early Velvet. Have you heard of them?

I'll put them on.

Do a song about my old man. He was in a penal battalion.

Let's have a drink!

Leave them alone.

Come on, come on.

Keep it down!

Go argue some place else.

What do you think?

I like the fact that it's quite badly recorded.

Exactly. As if it was recorded here. Underground.

But velvety.

I only know Sally Can't Dance.

Sally Can't Dance isn't by the Velvet.

It's Lou Reed on his own. It's a good record.

But Berlin is even better.

Lou's lyrics are always great. How's your English?

Not bad, but speaking is difficult.

Here.

I can't promise it's exactly right. I wrote it down by ear.

You got many of these notebooks?

A lot.

Listen, I've just had an indomitable

idea of mind-blowing proportions.

What if...

When you sing Eighth grade girl,

the last verse, we move up a key?

Listen.

And then...

I don't know.

It's not an original idea,

but I think it fits this song.

I like it the way it is now.

Well, you're the boss.

Here.

- Thanks. - Sure, take it.

I'm off.

Haven't been home for days. Mother is worried.

Here... This is for you.

What is it?

Look at that.

I carved it myself.

It fits. Thank you, Zhenia and I like it.

Natasha, come on, your husband's still alive...

Oh, I have a gift for you, too! Just a sec.

- What's that? - Did you carve this, too?

- An ashtray? - It's an ashtray.

All this carving is great, Viktor,

but you'd be better off writing songs.

Do you write fast?

It depends.

Write some hits, sort out the band,

and you can apply to the club.

We'll support you.

Get the lyrics approved, and off you go!

I don't know. We need equipment.

An electric guitar. How can we play the rock club?

We're poets with drums.

Please welcome "The Poets with Drums".

Poets with Pomade.

DrumPoets.

Get the... out of here!

Damn, we don't even have a name.

The baby can't sleep!

Get out of here, now!

Thanks.

Without electric guitars, we're screwed.

Mate, that's not the problem.

A real rocker can drum on

a wooden trunk and it will sound amazing.

We need a new name. Short and simple.

Two syllables max.

"Boozy".

"Vino".

"Kino".

"Fork".

"Corkscrew".

"Sardines".

"Overcoat".

"Letter".

- "Kino". - We already said Kino.

We need dough for an amp.

- And for beer. - Oh yes. Beer comes first.

Right now in fact.

Can we do a swap?

No.

How much, then?

A fiver.

I only have three.

All right. But be quick.

You like Bolan?

I love T-Rex.

- Did I scare you? - A little.

Hi.

Your work?

Yeah. Take one if you want.

What about you?

What are you doing here?

Cool.

Why am I here?

I came for him!

I heard someone was selling Aladdin Sane this morning.

I couldn't find it, I guess it was sold.

Great album.

Yeah, Mike loves it. I was going to give it to him.

I'm off, good luck.

Wait, let's go together.

You know,

I first went to Mike's place, to his

sister's, actually, because of Bowie.

We would walk around a lot,

and I'm always in heels. I always dreamed of just...

Look, they still have records.

My dream: just collapsing onto a bench!

That time we met, Mike was always shy:

he never invited me home.

But that day, Mike mentioned Bowie's new record.

I was so tired of walking I thought I'd drop dead.

So I said,

"Excuse me, but could we,

perhaps, listen to that record right now?"

And I invited myself over.

- Did you listen to it? - I don't remember.

And then...

Then he read me the telephone directory.

There were such funny surnames!

We laughed until the morning.

Okay, I'm going.

Mike's working a long shift.

He forgot his food at home.

Let me help you find a gift.

What does he like?

L. I. BREZHNEV ON YOUTH

He likes coffee. Double portion.

So let's bring him a coffee.

Won't it get cold?

We'll be quick.

How much for that cup?

It's not for sale. It's family.

I really need it, come on.

It's out of your price range.

It's for a good cause.

Whatever it takes. I have three roubles.

You know, Viktor...

What's your surname?

Viktor Olegovitch, the gift's getting cold!

Then we'll have to take

an intergalactic rocket to speed up.

Deal? Come on.

Stand clear of the doors.

Next stop: Ulitsa Nekrasova.

We missed our stop!

Stop, please.

Stand back.

You should be ashamed of yourself!

"I am a passenger

"And I ride and I ride

"I ride through the city's backside

"I see the stars come out of the sky

"Yeah, the bright and hollow sky

You know it looks so good tonight."

That was the song by American musician Iggy Pop

called "The Passenger".

But, sadly, this did not happen.

If only it had.

- You were talking about Japan. - Yes, it's so fascinating.

They have this amazing poetry, a whole world in three lines.

They know that one flower is greater than a whole bouquet.

With a flowering twig, who needs a garden?

And Basho. Do you know Basho?

"How is it, friends?

"A man looks at cherry blossom,

"And on his belt, a long sword!"

Okay, Viktor.

I'll go alone from here. Wait for me.

Good moves!

Some cheese,

an apple,

this is chicken and rice.

And sausage.

And what's this?

It's coffee! A double, your favourite.

Apparently, this cup is priceless.

Only we spilt...

I spilt some of it.

I should go. It's time to collect Zhenya.

You carried it all across town?

Yes.

Try it.

Well, how is it?

Bitter.

Tasty.

Cold.

Too bad...

You got the lyrics?

You're going to see Ivanova now.

She's in a bad mood,

argued with everyone... She's eating now.

And you should get lost.

Don't let her see you looking like that.

...Sex Pistols.

At least you look like humans, not... up.

Hey... up is the highest form of life on Earth!

Soviet youths don't need these kinds

of messages, Mike Vassilievitch.

Guys, get your songs approved, and your next concert is here.

Hello.

"They'll knock on my door,

"They'll shout from the street

"That I've slept enough

"A drunken voice says, 'Got any chow?'"

Perfect lyrics for a lunch break.

I see you're not afraid of lazy rhymes.

Though that makes the form consistent with the content.

It's a sort of primitivism. A conscious sort.

May I?

Leave me, I'm still on lunch break.

- Excuse me. - Excused.

Thanks.

Well done, son.

Guys,

don't get me wrong,

we created the rock club to make a point.

To show that rock music isn't for the gutters and dives.

And what do you do?

You drag it back down into the gutter.

What's this all about?

"I'm a slacker.

"Mama, Mama.

"I'm a slacker".

I see whose influence this is, Mike.

Well, "Mama, Mama" was my idea.

At least you have a lyrical hero,

strong, sharp, and independent. But this?

A blue collar boy with a ciggie.

Exactly.

A blue collar boy also has the right to a voice. Hasn't he?

He's the working class.

The working class, I know.

Soviet rock musicians

must find all that's good in humanity.

And play an active social role.

Understood.

Viktor, don't get so worked up, sit down.

Hello.

This is Oleg.

He's our drummer.

Oleg,

could you bring us some drinks, please?

These are comic, satirical songs. We're short on them.

And in a way, it's also quite clearly

a critique on society.

Okay.

Let's assume that's the case.

What does Eighth Grade Girl critique?

Sexual promiscuity.

I'd like to hear from the author.

Promiscuity. Of the sexual kind.

I see.

And My Friends?

Teenage alcoholism.

And There's Time, But No Money?

Parasitism.

Okay.

So I will write,

"Comic songs".

Not comic.

Viktor!

Go get us something to drink.

You too. Go.

- Would you... - Go!

Yes, please.

Tanya, let the guys play.

Under the influence of other ideologically stronger bands,

they'll develop a consciousness.

It's a good thing they're singing and composing.

They have a vocation.

So they'll never match that band The Russians, but...

They probably won't drink. Or steal.

And so we must renounce our worldly possessions,

material wealth, and the pursuit of profit.

We must go live with friends in the country,

avoid politics,

talk idly about nothing

and about everything, in freedom and equality.

Mike, your friends are here.

Hi, everyone.

What a nice surprise!

Here you go. As promised.

Thank you, old friend. That's wonderful.

And this?

That's not for you. I need it myself!

Scary Monsters! That's about us!

Mike, the champagne.

And money, does it work in your utopia?

It's shared equally. It's easier that way.

And basic furniture, right?

And what furniture would you have, ideally?

Ideally, I'll lie on a couch,

getting royalties for my songs all my life.

Oh, I have a couch. I'll trade it for a record.

Great, I'll think about it.

What about clothes?

Forget about clothes!

Ira, the champagne wasn't for you.

Ksyusha, can you grab a rag?

The lifestyle itself is a cult.

You must live how you want, not how others say. Right?

I think it's a grand idea.

Here's to Zoopark!

And I also want to thank Mike

for getting us into the rock club.

Thanks to you guys.

Hey, let's bet a beer on the first

thing they say on TV before the news:

"100,000 tonnes" of something, or "Leonid Brezhnev".

I bet on "100,000 tonnes".

I'm for "Leonid Brezhnev".

Heard of Garin and the Hyperboloids?

Is that I'm a Slacker?

I've heard of them. Is that you?

Something like that.

Hi again.

- Hi. - Lyosha.

- Viktor. - Hello.

Here, smokies with fishies.

Or Ashes to Ashes, Russian style.

Mike, I owe you a beer.

"Leonid Brezhnev"!

You want to put on a home concert?

Of course we do.

We've only got a short set.

Thirty minutes. If it's us and Mike, that could work.

Mike Vassilievitch!

Do you want to poison the baby?

I already said, smoke in the kitchen!

Let's go, or she'll bite my head off.

A very passionate lady, Evgenia.

Are you going home tonight?

I'm staying till morning. I already called my parents.

It's not how we behave.

All this jerking about,

shaking your ass like a faggot.

So how do "we" behave?

What is ours?

- Vysotsky's ours. - Vysotsky, sure.

Why don't you try picking up a guitar.

Play with it for a while,

see if you can strum the strings?

Try screaming into the microphone.

Then you'll know a man from a faggot.

Viktor.

Oh, wow!

You like tomatoes?

Yes.

Take a bite.

Maybe we can split it?

Eat!

Viktor, we need to talk.

It's not locked.

I called my mother.

I'm staying with you tonight.

Is there anything to drink?

In the kitchen.

Pay attention, this is the best part.

Beautiful.

To the right. Cough.

Head to the left.

Cough. Turn.

Buttocks apart. You can go.

- Pasha! - Kolia!

Pasha, are you there?

Mum!

Stop shouting!

Just tell me, is it Afghanistan?

Stop, Mum.

Kolia!

He was drafted a week ago and didn't say a word.

Oleg!

We give them our things?

Underpants off.

Buttocks apart.

Next.

Hey, you!

I'm talking to you!

Cut it out, or I'll drum on your head!

Buttocks apart.

Come on.

This is crazy! A recording?

But we don't have a drummer.

We'll put a drum track on in the background.

Look, half the club rocks to AC/DC and Black Sabbath...

You want to give them a drum track?

They can barely stand me. They'll destroy you.

So let them.

I don't understand why it bothers you.

Because it's not rock 'n' roll. It's disco!

What's so bad about disco?

Bowie writes disco.

If your dear Bolan hadn't crashed,

he'd play disco, too.

And he wouldn't mind a bit.

Yeah, sure.

"Don't give a fuck" is the future.

Do what you want. Play Duran Duran, even!

I don't care.

Well, we'll be going.

It's finished.

What shall we play next?

Whatever you want.

Pick one.

They're both good.

No, choose.

Okay.

T-Rex.

Why not Lou Reed?

Well, he's a little monotonous.

Arrogant at times, too.

I don't always enjoy listening to him.

Well, at last!

Why didn't you tell me this before?

I wouldn't have played Lou Reed around you.

I didn't want to upset you.

But I can't guess what you want.

So it's better if you tell me what you want.

I want to kiss Viktor.

And how can I help with that?

Give my blessing?

Pretty much.

If you didn't know I kissed him, the guilt would kill me.

So what do you need? A signature? A seal?

You can just say it.

Go ahead, kiss him.

T-Rex then, right?

Hi, everyone.

Hey.

This one's open, too.

Rock 'n' Roll Star next.

In the day, You have everything

Everything that makes Life worth living

Things to do, friends sometimes even money

Wine, and even Buddies for drinking

You're a rock 'n' roll star

At least that's what they say

And the boys in a dirty and stuffy cafe

Are happy If you look their way

...let loose, Mike! ...it!

Get up, guys!

Find peace in the new day

In the evening we'll play

But in the morning it's the same old faces

This old game, I've seen it all before!

Natasha, get up!

You're a rock 'n' roll star

You turn up the volume

Sing the same old blues

Music puts you In such a good mood

Hey, rock 'n' roll star!

Let's go!

What wouldn't you give To fall asleep?

What wouldn't you give to be deceived?

Hey, rock 'n' roll star!

I'll lock all of you up!

Stop this disgrace at once!

You must be proud!

THIS DID NOT HAPPEN

Zoopark! Zoopark!

Let's go after Mike's set before The Hyperboloids play.

Why would anyone play after Mike?

Right, put this on.

Viktor, what is this?

I said put it on.

Get ready for the mysterious Garin and the Hyperboloids.

And even though one of them is in a frilly shirt

and the other... is too,

I think they've got something. Give them a hand.

It's a new comedy band.

Listen to the humour in the lyrics.

Hey, where are your crepe-rubber shoes?

Where's your Double-breasted jacket?

Dad, hide your slippers Out of sight

More vocals.

- What? - Turn the vocals up.

Back then you wouldn't have paid a fiver for them

You used to be a beatnik

You used to be a beatnik

You used to...

You used to be a beatnik

You said you'd give your soul for a rock 'n' roll record

Made from X-rays

of someone else's body

And now it's just TV, newspaper, football

And your dear old mama is proud of you

You used to be a beatnik...

Your rock 'n' roll days Are gone

Veterans supporting the youth.

...But I still believe and it's nice to believe

That deep, deep down your spirit's still free

You used to be a beatnik

Well, how was it?

You're a maestro, sir!

Did you see Mike rocking? The place was on fire!

Yes, I saw. I hate being filmed.

The camera loves beauty.

So film the bridges, the Hermitage!

Tickets for the Aquarium?

Mike, a few words for posterity.

A few words?

This is Natasha, a great lover of tomatoes.

What's wrong?

Well, your man's here.

He might not like it if I hug you.

He's the one you should be filming.

Guys... Can we just...

Move into the light? That's good.

Can you move? I want him.

Get down!

The bridges will be up, so I'll be out

till morning. Don't worry.

Viktor!

Can you walk Natasha home? To pick up the kid.

- Sure. - Great.

See you.

- Coming with us? - No, I have an important task.

See you.

Wait a second.

- Shall we go? - Let's go.

Wait for us! Don't close the door!

Goodbye.

Viktor, don't just stand there.

I'll just get Zhenya from Evgenia's.

Shall I make some tea?

Or beer? I'll see what's in the fridge.

No, thanks.

Mike will be back soon, he'll want it.

Mike's not coming.

The bridges are up, so he's staying with Misha.

I really like that Blondie girl.

Mike translated a few of her songs.

I like the one about phone calls,

"Any day or night. Call me."

Mike isn't a big fan.

Maybe I should be going?

Viktor.

Look.

The baby needs a bath. This table should go here.

And I'll boil the water.

Do you mind helping?

Wait here!

What's that you've got, port?

Give it here.

Thank you.

It ate the coin. Do you have change?

What are you doing in the rain?

Thrown out of home? Did your girl kick you out?

I kicked my old man out.

I'm too proud.

I tell him,

"Call me. Even at night.

"Whenever you want, just call. Call me in the morning,

"Just call me."

I flew in from Vladivostok.

And I'm flying!

In this red dress, flying.

And what?

What for?

Why should I wait for him?

I don't want him. I don't need him.

GOD

Lou Reed says, "A perfect day

"is drinking in the park,

"feeding animals at the zoo,

"going to the movies

"and finally, home.

"It's such a perfect day."

You're not squeamish?

Mike can't bear childcare.

How's that?

He's so tiny.

I really want a son.

Then get married!

Come here.

Come here, my sweet.

Just heard Bowie. Didn't understand

a thing, but it sounded great.

Not too small, is it?

No, it fits perfectly. Good jumper, thanks.

I had an idea for a song.

About no one, nothing, a song without meaning.

What's a song about nothing?

Just that.

I reckon a song without meaning is an achievement.

Would you stop scratching?

Maybe it is.

I don't know any good songs with meaning.

Some wine?

Yep.

What do you listen to?

I listen to my drinking buddies.

Then let's drink.

I wonder if jeans would suit me or not...

They would.

You think?

I'm not sure. Haven't got the money anyway.

Lyosha has some blue jeans, they're too small.

I'll buy them and give them to you. They'll suit you.

Zhenya is looking at us funny.

He loves you.

And I love him.

He isn't usually friendly with people.

But with you he is.

Well then...

Sleep, little one.

Sleep.

The baby's exhausted.

He falls asleep so fast with the light off.

Mike has allowed me to kiss you.

You've got written permission?

He joked about that, too.

No. We just don't keep anything from each other.

That's all.

Well?

Do I need to get written permission from you as well?

Boris, you once said if I

needed help recording an album,

to just say the word.

That's right.

This is "the word".

Will you produce the album?

Well, if you think you need my help with that...

I think I do.

Of course.

So, will the line-up be the same?

I'm not asking for my band.

Then who for?

Gotta record Viktor while we can.

What could possibly happen to him?

Anything: army, family, children, alcoholism...

A lack of interest in living.

Anything can happen in this country.

- And your album? - It's fine, I'm working on it.

Viktor...

On the misted-up Window of a tram

I trace bad words With my finger

The drainpipes are making musical sounds

My head wet from the rain wet like grass

My head...

And the city is grey And wet now, too

I walk about not hiding under an umbrella

And like a mirror in rain the shimmering glass

I'll walk around

See if anyone's home

My mood depends on the number of beers I've drunk

Nobody needs me And I don't need anyone

The roofs are dripping After the first rain

The warm weather is here I hope it stays

Everything's not so bad if you just smile

Let's sit and watch the world

Through a glass of wine

Generation X, Generation Zero

We're strange you'll know us when you see us

Strangers to pain we're all wayward bums

Don't think any of us

Still needs anything

My mood depends on the number of beers I've drunk

Nobody needs me And I don't need anyone

Amazing.

Right, Andrei?

Well, the template's there. Now we can record the vocals.

Guys, we've recorded the guitars and the drum machines.

And?

Is it okay to record them

through the same effects pedal?

Of course it's okay.

One pedal, one sound.

That creates the sound of the album.

We just recorded new songs with Boris,

and it was all through one pedal.

And I'll tell you what: it was the same effects pedal.

Let's go.

Recording!

Wait!

All right, go.

No. Stop.

The sound's shit.

This is complete bullshit.

Amateurism.

Hey, don't get angry.

We both know how it could sound.

But this is not about sound.

You've just gotta record these songs. Release them, let go.

It's bad, sad for the songs if they stay stuck

in your head.

Damn it, let them out, and be done.

You don't like the sound.

When the kids scream your songs in

the hallways, that'll make a sound.

Just think about it.

You don't like the way your album sounds,

that's a beautiful

problem.

Problems like this are rare. You're lucky. Enjoy.

I'm enjoying.

Well then. Stop whining.

My pockets are empty, my watch reads six

No cigarette and no lighter

There's no light in my friend's window

There's time, but no money

And no one to go visit

There's time, but no money And no one to go visit

All of a sudden, no one's around

Seems my friends aren't really my friends...

Good. Great.

I want to drink, I want to eat

I just want to find somewhere where I can sit down...

Great. Just super!

Boris, are you sure?

Well, shall we listen to the dub?

What if we all sing at the end?

Like a drunken chorus.

Like The Doors, in Alabama Song.

Exactly!

Into the studio, then.

- You join in, too! - Sure!

Night, day Too tired to sleep

There's smoke

To hell with it

There's no sleep

Just a dream of years

The film

ended long ago

My home

I'm there

Sitting around

Like a fool

It's light

Sleep won't come

Now it's night

Soon it will be gone

A bowl of water

Gas flame burning...

- Has it started? - It's nearly over.

- Marianna! - Hi.

Drunk already, my dear?

Get your feet off the chair.

Late as usual.

- Thanks everyone! - Wasn't that wonderful?

Thanks! Enjoy the album!

Aluminium Cucumbers again!

Let them rest and have a drink.

Wonderful.

Get the musicians a drink!

Can I get your number, please?

Great.

Eighth Grade Girl, Cucumbers, etc.

Just, wow!

Here. Count it.

"Sometimes you do have money, but no time".

Thank you.

Thank you.

Want some rum?

I want some!

Don't give him any more!

Too late already.

Rum's best with Pepsi Cola.

It's time to get Zhenya.

So go and get him. I'm staying.

Everyone, let's start. While we're still standing.

- Hey, quiet in the kitchen! - We're starting.

Press that button.

Quiet!

First, I want to ask Mike

a question.

Let's say you have a lot of money,

or someone says to you,

"Play what you want, any instruments,

any venue..." Basically, describe your dream concert.

My dream concert,

a stadium of thousands,

sound, light, multicoloured smoke, three drummers,

two pianists (one white grand, one synth),

a ten-man wind section

that comes on,

blows, and then leaves.

Blows in what sense?

In the literal sense, as in "play".

Then the elephants come out.

And why elephants?

What kind of zoo doesn't have elephants?

The elephants have a string orchestra and a harp.

- Just one? - One harp.

Just one, played by People's Artist, Vera Dulova.

My love! My one great love!

That's it.

And you, Viktor?

I'm going to disagree with Mike a bit.

I see everything a bit differently,

which is natural of course.

I don't see the joy of a stadium,

you can't see who you're playing for.

So you'd want a small venue,

like a bar?

I dream of playing in a bar! But who'd let us?

I'm not a camera operator,

I work as a studio camera technician.

Well, I did.

I'd take a camera to film friends from time to time.

Bribe the guard with a bottle

and just take it with you.

But someone ratted, the KGB came,

seized the material. Scandal ensued...

I hid this in a jar at my parents'.

There's not much, but this is what's left.

Are they fashionable too or just poor?

I want to own you completely

Embrace your big body

Kiss your tight lips

Horrible...

I wish for, I want you

Diamonds scattered across the sky

Somewhere, people

are getting high

I want to have the right to it

You will!

I wish for, I want you...

Do forgive me.

I came with my friend and it's time to go,

but I have an idea.

- Oh, yeah? - Give me your hand.

- You're a fortune teller? - Almost. Give me your hand.

- Marianna. - Viktor.

I know. See you.

Your song, full of love...

I'm a little confused.

As Mike says, better to be confused than working.

I try to find you a wife, but there's one right here.

She's a bit odd.

Marianna's kind and clever,

and Mike thinks she's modern and progressive.

But I don't want to get married. Not to anyone!

She and her mum smoke on the balcony,

and an old Commie chases them off!

Her mother is fantastic.

Singing about steam engines.

Viktor, seriously now.

Stop coming round. Mike's on edge, and it's hard for me.

- What's hard? - Everything.

Seeing you and not seeing you.

I can't. Mike's opinions about my songs

are important to me. I trust him.

Then let's pretend we barely know each other.

We'll stop paying attention to each other.

Shall we try?

Let's try.

The ring!

It won't come off.

We need to escape this swamp somehow.

We can show your songs to someone in the West.

Americans.

Sure, they're sitting waiting.

Dude, relax.

We must record your songs in English.

Your English is perfect, right?

Maybe they'll buy.

Oh, shit!

Careful! That's okay...

Here, give me that, you don't need it.

Okay, stop it.

There's been an accident...

Come on, son.

Come on, hold on!

I nearly fell!

Mike is right, really.

They love our dusty old icons.

Chekhov in Canada, Tchaikovsky...

- The film! - In a minute!

They already know Tchaikovsky.

They want to know what's happening here now.

That there's another life, other music.

Is there?

There's you.

There's Boris, Viktor...

What would they see that's new in my music?

After The Beatles, The Stones, The Doors,

Led Zeppelin, The Clash, Joy Division,

Bowie, Bolan, Dylan!

T-Rex, even Blondie!

Not to mention... Amanda Lear!

It's okay in the swamp,

especially if you're Number One toad.

What have you done? Mike!

Can't you keep your mouth shut?

A composition by the British group, Mott the Hoople,

from their '72 album.

Music and lyrics by David Bowie.

All the Young Dudes.

I'm going.

"Billy spent the whole night going on about suicide.

"He's out of his mind at only 25.

"Injects meth, and doesn't want to live.

"'Cause on TV they're saying guys like us ruin everything.

"Man, are you for real?

"Fuck your TV, I've got my T-Rex.

"Yeah, I'm one of the young dudes!"

Scrupulously applying the country's harvest plan

that was set up electronically,

50,000 trucks took the path along the silo fields.

"Spring has come, winter departed,

thanks is given to the Party."

...millions of tonnes of wheat from Kuban in the silos.

The time in Moscow: 3:00 pm.

In Ashgabat: 5:00 pm. In Karaganda: 6:00 pm.

In Krasnoyarsk: 7:00 pm. In Irkutsk: 8:00 pm.

In Chita: 9:00 pm.

In Khabarovsk and Vladivostok: 10:00 pm.

In Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk: 11:00 pm. In Kamchatka...

Natasha Vaslievna.

Well, look who it is.

Were you "just passing by"?

I was indeed just passing by.

How did you find me, Viktor Robertovitch?

Marianna said that you work here now.

I wanted to give this back.

What is it?

Lou Reed's lyrics.

What did you think?

I don't know. He's arrogant.

Still, all his lyrics are good.

Berlin is my favourite though.

Is Mike coming to our concert?

Who knows? You know how he is.

You should come. I've written some new songs.

I want him to hear them.

How are things?

Fine.

How's Zhenya?

Zhenya is fine, too. He's started to walk and talk.

Tell me,

how much does Mike earn in Moscow?

What does he get for a home concert?

No idea.

When in Moscow he travels by taxi

and drinks cognac: he can't bear it when sober.

Whatever he brings is welcome.

And you account for every kopeck to Marianna?

Yes, she arranges the concerts.

Well, that's different. I really don't know.

Come over, you can ask Mike yourself.

Maybe I will.

Okay, bye.

See you.

Look, Bolan's watching us. He'll tell Mike everything.

Is there anything to tell?

No.

Nothing.

No need to, either.

Then I'll go.

Bye then.

Grey, fog, and rain

It's light out, it's 6:00 am. again

It seems that very same tomorrow has come

Which I heard of before

Yesterday was even done

The stars in the sky start to fade

Rock stars go home to beds unmade

And me, I'm on my way home

Last night we went around the town

My senses are unusually sharp

It's all so interesting all so meaningful

I look at myself, I look around

My mind is a mess, too

But a city is a wonderful thing

Like a circus Or like a zoo

With its jesters And its heroes

Its Oscar Wildes And its Joan of Arcs

Here are the scoundrels And the worthy

Ordinary people The majority

I love them all

Well, almost all

But I wish that everyone could be happy

Grey, fog, and rain

It's light out It's 6:00 am again

It seems that very same tomorrow has come

Which I heard of before yesterday was even done

Hey.

Good morning. Have you woken up?

"I woke up this morning."

A great opening to a blues song.

Zhenya woke up early, too.

I rocked him so you wouldn't wake up.

Maybe I should move to Mum's.

So I don't feel like an idiot.

What idiot?

It's just a teenage romance.

We walk hand in hand.

And sometimes we kiss.

You do know that holding hands

is the most dangerous thing of all.

Stop it.

I always dreamed of living with you in an old castle.

But all we have is a communal

apartment and a caretaker's salary.

That's quite enough for me.

Want some coffee?

Evgenia brought our share of the coffee.

Shall we take these cups, Zhenya?

Shall we make Daddy some coffee?

Done. You're free to go.

Great!

Only no swing, okay?

Play it straight. Like robots.

I'll try.

Well guys, are you ready?

- Guys, I believe in you. - Hi, everyone.

Viktor,

Mikhailov believes in you. That makes you a god!

We have only one God. Okay, Boris?

I'll go on ahead.

Oh, look at our handsome new romantics!

This is exactly what the rock club has been missing.

It was Marianna's idea.

Don't turn around.

Boys, break a leg!

Fingers crossed.

The District Committee asked for tickets.

Is Mike here?

I haven't seen him. Did you ask him?

I did.

Why ask him?

He's on the club's board, he doesn't need an invitation.

Well...

Viktor, don't think about that now.

I agree with her.

Don't think about that, Viktor.

Right, time to start, boys!

I'll go and announce them.

Good evening, friends.

Now we're going to hear the band

we've all come here to listen to.

I give you Kino!

One...

I know my tree

Won't last a week

I know my tree

Is doomed in this city

But I spend all my time next to it

I'm fed up with everything else

It seems that this is my house

It seems that this is my friend

I have planted a tree

I have planted a tree

I know my tree

May be broken by a schoolboy tomorrow

I know my tree

Will leave me soon

But while it is there I'm always nearby

In joy and in pain

It seems this is my world

It seems this is my son

I have planted a tree

I have planted a tree

I'm going for a smoke.

This movie is dedicated to our loved ones

I turn off the TV and I write a letter to you

About how I can no longer watch this shit

About how I've got no strength left

How I almost drank to myself to death

But didn't forget about you

About how the telephone rang and wanted me to get up

To get dressed and go Actually to run

But I told him to get lost

Said I'm sick and tired Stayed up all night

I wait for a reply

There is no more hope

Summer will be over

Summer...

Film is inspired by real events.

Some of the characters and dialogues are fictional.

Аny coincidences are unintentional.