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"What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in his heart -

- but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and scream pass through them -

- it sounds like lovely music." (Søren Kierkegaard)

THE WAY TO MANDALAY

Now, boys, stop fooling around. Stop fighting.

Stop fighting.

Get down from there.

Come on... Not now. Off you go.

I may be happy

and yet I want to weep

and yet I want to weep

for there is no heart that shares its joy...

John?

...my joy so deep.

John, are you ready?

- Is the house packed? - I think all the parents are here.

Tell them to sing up then. If the house is packed.

The acoustics change dramatically killing the reverb.

- Dramatically indeed. - It drowns out the song.

- Carl Nielsen wouldn't approve, either. - Carl Nielsen?

- The composer. - He hardly cares. He's dead, John.

- Come along. - I still think he wouldn't approve.

Let's go. Come along, boys. Hurry up. You, too.

Run along.

Get a move on.

I may be warm but nothing really warms me

because the icy world's embrace disarms me.

I may be cold but so red is my cheek.

Stop it, darling. You were great.

They don't understand! They think it's all about belting it out!

But you must establish the tonic first.

Everybody knows that!

Darling... John!

Once the tonic is established, then you can set the tones.

Stop it now.

When G is set, you hear that D is the dominant key for G.

Who doesn't know that?!

All the grown-ups loved it!

Because we're children!

Just because we're children, we can belt out anything?

John!

John, get out here and shake your little behind.

You know?

Loosen up, for chrissakes.

- Have a dram. - Holger!

A dram won't hurt him. Theodor!

- He's not... - Theodor! Yes...

Little man... little man.

Now, now!

You don't sip this stuff, buddy. You down it in one gulp.

Go on! Go on! Go on!

- Darling, let's have him sing a song. - Yes!

Darling, sing us a song. Sing us a song, come on.

- Come on, darling. Sing. - Hey, turn off the music.

Turn off the music.

Listen up! My wife's son... and mine now!

Everybody's little drunkard -

- and the unofficial leader of the Copenhagen Boys Choir -

- Mr. John Mogensen is going to sing us a song!

Give him a big hand!

I may be happy

and yet I want to weep

for there is no heart that shares my joy so deep.

I may be sorrowful and yet the laughter's near.

So that no one will see my frightened tear.

And I may love

and yet I want to sigh

for they are fools that I resent so.

I may be cold but so red is my cheek

for nothing on this Earth makes my love meek.

John!

Why must you always do this?

Don't get all worked up over it.

Okay?

Know what you are? You're Mommy's little sun.

Just like that one.

Your granddad had a great ear for music and he played the violin.

He always said: "The sun loves rising to music.

That's why it uses the horizon -

- as a violin string.

And then it pushes itself -

- slowly up above it.

Listen close...

...and you'll hear -

- a fine little tone."

Do you hear it?

John?

John.

- Are you okay, John? - Old Timer...

I'm finished.

The hell you are. You just need to go home to Ruth.

Ship me somewhere east of Suez

where the best is like the worst

where there aren't no Ten Commandments

and a man can raise a thirst.

For the temple bells are calling

and it's there that I would be

by the old Moulmein Pagoda

looking lazy at the sea.

On the road to Mandalay

where the old Flotilla lay

with our sick beneath the awnings

when we went to Mandalay!

On the road to Mandalay

where the flying fishes play

and the dawn comes up like thunder

outer China 'crost the Bay!

And the dawn comes up like thunder

outer China 'crost the Bay!

...see the girl in the blue dress in the first row smiling at me?

- She was smiling at me. - No, at me! I saw her in Fredericia.

- The blue dress? She was in Esbjerg. - I think I saw her there, too.

- I screwed her in Odense! - So that's why she's back.

To try a real man.

What are you doing?

What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you playing at?

How many times have we practiced the harmony in the G section?

Poul has the F, you come in on G, Otto. Bent, do you even know the alphabet?

Look at me. Where are you at?

I don't know. Esbjerg, Horsens, Aarhus...

You're supposed to come in on the goddamn C.

Right, C. I F... I E, no, I see!

- Hey, we did alright. Listen to them. - What the hell is that, Otto?

- What? - Your tie.

- What about it? - It's crooked.

Boys, we are Four Jacks, we top the charts -

- because of our harmonies, our singing and our style.

- I'm so fed up with you, John. - You're so selfish!

Speak for yourself. You want everything to be so goddamn perfect.

- You bet I want it to be perfect. - Don't you ever relax?

- You love singing. - And so what?

Then how come you're so afraid of singing?

Don't be so goddamn afraid!

- You can't go solo. - Sure I can.

No, because then you're on your own and people see all your mistakes.

And so what if you make a tiny mistake? Who the hell cares?

Everyone can see you're no good and then nobody wants to listen to you.

John, talk to yourself or your maker about that. I'm through with you.

Then just walk away. You're gonna regret this!

- I'm never gonna regret this, John. - You're a spoiled brat!

You can't do shit if you're on your own!

I'm finished.

Poul... Poul?

Oh dear, Poul.

Daddy's little doggy. Are you waiting for Daddy?

Dad?

Come here, girlie. There you are.

It's great to see you. Did you miss your dad?

- No. - Man, you're ugly.

Now I haven't missed you one bit.

- What's up with you? - Why didn't you come?

You said you'd come hear me sing at school.

Dad couldn't come... as the only one.

- Did you do well? - Where were you?

Once upon a time there was this... talented musician.

Everyone thought he was the best musician in the world.

So did his little daughter. He had a little ugly daughter with a beard.

He did! No one understood why she was so ugly, because he was very handsome.

But then they saw her mom, and she was not a pretty sight.

Many thought she was a witch, but she was alright deep down at the bottom.

Unfortunately, she was bottomless. The mom's name was Fart, by the way.

When the magnificent musician performed at the different venues -

- everybody loved him and didn't want to let him go.

And when people won't let go, it's hard to go home.

It's even harder when he can't let go of the beer.

- Go put on your shoes, Minna. - Dammit, Ruth, we got extra gigs.

- But they hadn't invented the phone? - Come here!

- Is there any food? - If you're lucky.

I dreamt that you left me.

Are you bored here?

I don't blame you for being pissed off.

I can't turn it off.

When the music's playing, it's as if I'm in...

...in a zone, where...

...where everything floats. You float.

And when it all stops, you fall down on your ass.

I have a present for you.

Antabuse? No way!

- Oh yes. - I refuse, Ruth. No way.

- I can't. - Sure you can.

Only this once, then.

- You're gorgeous. - Yes, I am.

Girlie...

Mom?

- Turn on the TV, sweetie. - There's nothing on.

Well, put on some music.

Mary, I want to go home to you.

Mary, I want to go home to you.

I miss you here by my side.

Mary, I want to go home.

He's dreaming on his post the whole long night.

He never sees the sergeant coming into sight.

He's put in jail, and now the night is extra long.

Behind the bars he sings again his longing song.

Mary, I want to go home to you.

Mary, I want to go home to you.

I miss you here by my side.

Mary, I want to go home.

Mary, I want to go home.

Mary, I want to go home.

Thank you. That was perfect.

Boys, it's a hit. You've done it again.

Your arrangements, John, how the hell do you do it?

- What are you hiding up your sleeve? - Hey, magician, how about a beer?

- Water. - Where's the fire? Are you dying?

- Ruth says I can make art on water. - And you can drink without having fun.

You sure can.

Do you agree, James Rasmussen?

Are you in this for the music?

- Or for the booze and the babes? - Well...

Well?

James Ras-boozin'.

- Do you play the Spanish guitar? - Oh, not that look. John has an idea.

Why not do something nobody else can? That we can't just whip out?

"Why not make it hard for ourselves?" "The great immortal masters."

The great masters went against the tide. That made them immortal.

And there you are, James Ras-boozin'. With your slicked hair.

- Well, Mozart didn't have slicked hair. - He sure didn't.

- What's on your mind, John? - I want to do something big.

Let's do something new, never seen before. Something hard.

- Not on your life! - I can't do it, Bent.

I can't do the concert with that crap in my body. She wants to see me take it.

There are no devils in Hell anymore.

They all crawled up here and are posing as women.

I've got it!

- What are you doing? - The concert is in two hours. Let's go.

- James is still a rookie. - Aren't you forgetting something?

She doesn't trust me. She insists on seeing me take it.

Yuck!

- How about you, little Bent? - Booze may be our worst enemy.

But being a Christian man, I heed the holy Bible and love my enemy.

Go on.

Why are they throwing up? They took the fake pills, didn't they?

It's that song. John, let's just drop La Malagueña.

It's impossible.

John likes the impossible. Uphill, loaded down with lead weights -

- in front of a thousand people live on radio.

- We can do it... can't we? - In Spanish?

On live radio for millions who'd rather hear "Oh Mary"?

Why does it have to be so hard?

Because it makes us throw up, James. Because we love throwing up!

Because real men throw up, James. That's why!

Sing up, girls. The house is packed and that kills the acoustics.

Ready?

Live from the Denmarks Radio -

- we welcome the most successful...

Is everyone here? Okay, let's do it.

Four Jacks!

We're going to sing a Sanish spong... a Spanish song -

- about the poor young man from Malaga -

- who... loses and breaks his heart -

- to the rich young girl.

Is that you, little whiner?

- You were gone for a moment. - Yeah...

I was in Mandalay -

- where there aren't no Ten Commandments -

- and a man can raise a thirst.

And you end up here, on the floor?

Yes, I end up here.

But back then... Damn!

When we sang, we sure as hell sang.

But still you messed things up.

I did?

Bent stopped.

It all stopped.

No, Four Jacks wasn't just my fault.

It was Bent.

He lost his nerve.

He got scared.

And without Bent... No.

- They were scared of you. - You think?

A big blowhard.

Never satisfied.

Hell, I'm sorry about that. I sure as hell am.

I'm so damn sorry about that.

- You wrote it all? - Every last bit. Who else?

In this one, the vocals harmonize just like in Mandalay.

So we need great backing singers...

No.

No?

- It's not hip anymore. - Hip?

Vocal groups are done. Everybody loves what Otto's doing.

Solo artists, hard rock, crooners like Gustav and Bent. They're funny.

People don't want four uncles in suits ready to do a speech at a wedding.

- But the music is the main thing. - No, it's the wrong sound.

Sound? Did you say sound? You want sound?

If anyone in Denmark has the right sound, it's me.

Right on, John.

Right on? Sound? Hip? Done?

- What do you mean by "right on"? - It's gotta be right on the money.

You're so full of shit.

Ugly shirt, by the way. It suits you.

- I'll work something out. - That tune is getting old.

They're looking for a pianist at a hotel in Lund, Sweden.

- And? - Money.

A cocktail pianist! In Sweden?

Are you out of your mind?

John...

I created one of the biggest Danish successes. I sold a million records.

Sweden?! Swedes?! Swedes talking Swedish?!

- It's a paid gig. - A cock-tailed musician in Sweden!

John! Minna...

John Mogensen, cock-tailed musician!

- I'm the cocktail pianist. - The cocktail pianist?

John Mogensen. Purveyor of slush, mush and cock music.

Cock music?

What a shitty basement.

They couldn't even give us a proper hotel room.

I thought we were John Mogensen.

- We're pretty far from Mandalay. - Oh, shut up.

Here we are, in a crappy basement in Sweden!

This is real life.

I need to make some money.

That's something a little shit like you knows nothing about.

- Are you drunk? - Not enough.

- Mr. Mogensen? The restaurant is open. - Very well.

I may be happy

and yet I want to weep

for there is no heart that shares my joy so deep.

I may be sorrowful and yet the laughter's near

so that no one will see my frightened tear.

Goddamn!

This isn't a funeral! Play, goddamn it!

Yes.

- Hi. - Whereto?

Elsinore, the boat.

Get in.

- On holiday? - No, work.

John Mogensen?

Hell, it is you. John Mogensen!

Have you been playing? The good old stuff?

Sure.

You were a goddamn genius. This man was a goddamn genius.

As far as I know I'm not dead yet.

Hell no! I just meant to say that you were damn good.

Thanks.

And congratulations on... the baby.

- Pia. - It's her christening party tomorrow.

I see.

I have an idea. Are you really busy these days?

I'm only coming home if I say that I love you.

If I say that I love you... you love you.

Yes, if you love me.

Tell me, goddamn it, that you love me -

- because I love you, Ruth.

As long as I live, as long as my heart will beat -

- I will love you. Tell me that you love me.

Tell me that you love me, Ruth!

Ruth!

Ruth?

Ruth!

Sit down and I'll... say a few words.

Dear friends, listen up.

Here he is, John Mogensen.

John Mogensen is here.

Our new pal who we met in Sweden.

You do remember Four Jacks, right?

There you go!

Thank you very much.

I'm going to play a few songs that I'm sure you know.

The first one is a song -

- dedicated to the baby, to...

- Pia. - To the girl Pia.

To Pia. Here we go.

You are not like the other girls

you are one of a kind.

You are one of a kind.

All of the others

they don't mean a thing to me.

'Cause you are not like the others.

You are one of a kind.

'Cause you've got personality.

Personality... personality...

You're doing great.

I just think the guests want to dance.

Sure.

Got any newer stuff?

Newer?

Look, I've got these songs.

How about a dram?

A dram would be nice.

- Are you John Mogensen? - Yes.

- So you know Otto Brandenburg? - Yup.

- What's he like? - Well, Otto is a great guy.

I'd like to have sex with Otto Brandenburg.

Why the hell couldn't you be Otto Brandenburg?

Huh, Poul? Why didn't you hire...

- Let's go and let John... - Why didn't you hire Otto Brandenburg?

You're a big success, huh?

- Is that you, you little runt? - Look at yourself.

The music doesn't quite match the hair, does it?

Do you want to be nicey nice or do you want to be yourself?

Myself? I don't know who myself is.

Is it all the old Four Jacks crap?

About Mandalay, wind in the palm trees far, far away and all that mush?

Watch it!

Sing this one.

No, I can't. I'm not happy with the lyrics.

But it's about you.

About me?

Go on.

You mean it?

Down and Out

Down and out, a ragged lout, hungry, thirsty and poor.

Winter's coming but then comes summer, but hey, I've been there before.

Sit down if you've got the time, I've got something to say to you.

You don't know the first thing about living the life that bums like me do.

Because I'm down and out, a ragged lout, hungry, thirsty and poor.

The beer's gone and my tab is closed, but hey, I've been there before.

Listen to me, you big shot. You talk way too much, my friend.

Give me a nickel for some food and beer, and then we can talk again.

Because I'm down and out, a ragged lout, hungry, thirsty and poor.

The coat is pawned, the booze is downed but hey, I've been there before.

I can go wherever I want, I don't have to fall in line.

I'm a bum to the Lord but not to you, and this guitar is still mine.

Because I'm down and out, a ragged lout, hungry, thirsty and poor.

Winter's coming but then comes summer, but hey, I've been there before.

Hello, my girl.

Hello.

Ruth, where are you going?

Where are you going?

John? You're like a rolling stone.

Yes.

- You just can't lie still. - No, I sure can't.

No.

But I always come back home in the end, don't I?

I've met a pilot.

He wants me.

Pilots can't drink.

They go away, but you always know precisely when they'll be back.

He thinks I'm fascinating.

As long as I live, I'll be loving you.

But it won't be for much longer. My life is over soon.

How long are you going to stay there?

Until I dissolve!

- Oh, come on, I was just kidding. - What?

- I was kidding! - Kidding?

- Of course I haven't met a pilot. - What?

What would I do with a pilot?

- Slip some paper under the door. - Why?

You say you've found another man.

What I feared the most has happened once again.

You tell me yet again

that he's the one for you.

Okay, my love, just keep him, do.

As long as I live

as long as my heart will beat

that's how long I'll be loving you.

But you are a rolling stone

you can't stick to one alone

so on your own way you must go.

This is what I can, Ruth.

No more Sweden. No more christenings.

- I love you. - There's only you.

We'll make it, won't we?

You and I are going to make it.

I have been away on tour.

My success was very poor.

But the man at the very top

took me by the arm and said, John, now listen up.

Why don't you buy yourself a Tyrolean hat?

I'm sure that everyone would think that it was fun.

Why don't you buy yourself a Tyrolean hat?

That is where the money's at.

Mr. Record Executive, I brought a song for you to publish.

Sing it yourself or give it to Peter Belli.

There is something wrong in Denmark. Everything is going straight to hell.

John...

As long as you are loaded, you'll do very well.

John, this isn't...

Never mind the other people although they will take the blow.

Stop. Stop, John! Stop!

Something's wrong at the top, someone really needs to go.

John...

I love it, and it may be right up Belli's alley, but it won't do.

They're never gonna play lyrics full of "shit" and "hell" on the radio.

But it's true. They're letting shit into the air and into the water.

They're shitting on the whole shit and the big wigs don't do a thing.

If you say so, but cut the curse words.

- Cut them and we'll record it. - I won't change a thing.

Sure? We can guarantee you a hit.

It's perfect as it is.

You're wrong, John.

Sitting in a bar in the heart of town.

Gone is all my money, what a clever clown.

The missus will be mad, oh damnation.

Gone all night and day, better have a good explanation.

She won't believe a word I say.

Sitting in a bar of the humble kind.

I just need to sit and find some peace of mind.

- All the guests are gone. - John?

And the party's over.

Oh, lend me a fiver just to tide me over.

- Meisner? - What the hell are you doing here?

- Welcome to my backyard. - Sit up, John.

- How about a beer? - No thanks.

- Are these your things? - It's all mine. Including the shed.

No, I've borrowed the bench.

All is good.

I know it's crap. I don't know what I was thinking.

Nobody wants to listen to that.

Too many curse words. Shit, piss and crap.

- But you asked for it. - The lyrics are pretty unconventional.

But that's how people talk.

James went to the States to try his luck. He's never gonna break through.

- Poul went, too. He's found God. - Oh? Where was he hiding?

He was lying in a beach chair gazing at the Pacific, and God came.

Bent is goofing off with Gustav. He's funny but pushing himself too hard.

- But Gustav is making a bundle. - Bent always loved the zone.

The zone? Oh, that.

What's the deal with you guys and the zone?

Superman isn't the only one who can fly, you know.

No.

From now on, you come to me first with anything you write.

And you're going to sing it all yourself.

We're going to record these two on Monday. Write some more songs, okay?

Sure, if that's what you really want.

Steer clear of the mush. Write about your own experiences.

- You've got yourself a deal. - Deal.

And now for a new name in Danish popular music, and then again familiar.

We're going to hear a single by John Mogensen.

Now, who was this John Mogensen?

Well, he's one of the Four Jacks.

Otto Brandenburg has already gone solo -

- and Bent Werther has almost gone solo with Gustav Winckler -

- and now it seems to be John Mogensen's turn.

This is his new single: Down and Out.

There is something wrong in Denmark. Everything is going straight to hell.

No. That won't do.

As long as you are loaded, you'll do very well.

- It's the wrong side. - Do you want me to stop it?

Never mind the other people although they will take the blow.

Dad! They're playing your song!

Something's wrong at the top, someone really needs to go.

They're playing your song!

Jensen goes down to the lake to catch himself a fish as he often sees fit.

But all the fish are gone 'cause the industry pumps the lake full of shit.

He used to go to the beach to see the thousands of birds in the sky.

Now he can buy them in oil and the price is sky high.

There is something wrong in Denmark. Everything is going straight to hell.

As long as you are loaded, you'll do very well.

Never mind the other people although they will take the blow.

It's not for me.

Something's wrong at the top, someone really needs to go.

Hello.

I think you got the wrong number.

I can't. They want me to go on tour.

No, I can't.

We're here, literally, at the top of Denmark's Radio.

It is our responsibility to ensure diversity and a civil tone.

Until I heard that garish music, I was convinced -

- that if there were but one bastion in this country that hadn't fallen prey -

- to the Red henchmen's systematic undermining of Danish values -

- it was the Danish Pop Top!

A showcase for gay popular music, for romance.

With a touch of innocence and escapism, all right then.

But never a showcase for curse words and social criticism!

Calm down, Erhard. This song is soon forgotten.

But he's singing about us!

Something's wrong at the top, someone really needs to go. Oh yeah.

That was the new single by John Mogensen.

Not side A as I first announced but side B called:

There is Something Wrong in Denmark.

We're almost there!

As long as I live

as long as my heart will beat...

- Coming? - Yes.

Are we there yet?

But you are a rolling stone

you can't stick to one alone

so on your own way you must go.

- You bought a summerhouse? - Yes.

Welcome to the island.

This is such a peaceful spot -

- ideal for an artist who needs peace to work.

As long as I live

as long as my heart will beat

that's how long I'll be loving you.

But you are a rolling stone

you can't stick...

- Dad? - What's wrong?

I've got something in my stomach.

Old Dragør, such a lovely town on the coast of flat Ama'r isle.

With yellow old houses, paved roads geese and a happy old guy

sitting in the warm sunshine having a beer.

You take a stroll down main street and greet each other with good cheer.

Dance now a happy Christmas dance to the accordion and the violin.

Fresh straw in the old clogs, top hats, pretty girls and a shot of gin.

Cheers to the old ways, our traditions are here to stay.

Listen to the music, boys, play the golden oldies from our heyday.

The four ferries shuttle back and forth to Sweden from our little port.

If you'd like a little dram and a smoke of the taxfree sort

then take a trip, the shopping's cheap. Have a dram, it's now or never.

Back home your wallet's empty, and you're thirstier than ever.

Thank you.

Say, friends...

Let's wet our whistle.

Cheers, everyone.

Thanks a lot.

- What can I do for you? - Rost.

I'm John Mogensen.

- Why are you playing here? - Who wants to know?

You're topping the charts and everyone knows your songs -

- and you sit here in the dark playing to two hookers and a pickpocket.

- I like hookers and pickpockets. - You need to get out, John.

- Where? - Festivals, fairs.

Everybody loves you.

I'm not going to play any fairs on a flatbed truck.

- Why not? - Ever seen Cornelis on a flatbed truck?

Vreeswijk? He's touring all the county fairs and making a bundle.

I'm booking you for your first gig.

I can book you for another 300 before the week's over.

You're gonna make a million kroner a year.

No, all those people...

Do you believe in God?

Yes, on Sundays.

So why the hell don't you dance around the golden calf the other six days?

Gorge yourself until you're shitting gold.

You're too big for this dump, John.

- Did you say 300 gigs a year? - Yes.

- What was your name again? - Rost.

Your new manager.

Well, gentlemen, you're on soon. Mogens.

Lennart... Are you ready?

You're looking a little pale, John.

- Maybe I won't draw a big crowd. - There's several thousand out there.

They're all here to see you. Can't you hear them?

- Have we got a dram? - What do you need?

Just something to take the edge off.

- I've got schnapps, rum, whisky... - Rum.

Thanks.

- Hello again. - This is Mogens.

Lennart. And the man himself.

So here you are. I'm Rasch Thomsen.

I'm the fella picking up the tab, and I'm going to introduce you now.

- Go ahead. He's good and ready. - Well, it's about time.

Yes.

We have a fancy visitor all the way from Copenhagen.

You all know him.

He cost an arm and a leg, he did.

Get ready to be entertained by...

John Mogensen!

There is something wrong in Denmark. Everything is going straight to hell.

As long as you are loaded, you'll do very well.

Never mind the other people although they will take the blow.

Something's wrong at the top, someone really needs to go.

Jensen goes down to the lake to catch himself a fish as he often sees fit.

But all the fish are gone 'cause the industry pumps the lake full of shit.

He used to go to the beach to see the thousands of birds in the sky.

Now he can get them in oil and the price is sky high.

There is something wrong in Denmark. Everything is going straight to hell.

As long as you are loaded, you'll do very well.

I've been joined by a guest in the studio.

The one and only John Mogensen.

John Mogensen has a new single out: Shake It.

It's a very gay song, John Mogensen.

I locked some songs in a drawer some time ago -

- and it seems some of the songs found the key and flew out.

- Some call your songs political. - I wouldn't know.

No, a good song doesn't have to change the world, does it?

I just like to play, and I write the way people talk.

And that's what we're going to hear. Here comes the new single:

Shake It by John Mogensen.

You'll find it on the new LP simply titled: John Mogensen.

Everyone begins to shake it, when Sofie strips down naked and does the gogo.

Every Don and every Danny loves her cute little fanny as she does the gogo.

You should see the happy rockers when Sofie shakes her knockers, they go wild.

She knows how to flaunt her goods music playing, people swaying

every girl and lad.

She can razzle, she can dazzle, when Sofie does the gogo

all the crowd goes mad.

In her life, Sofie's a housewife in the suburbs with four kids.

She's cooking and scrubbing, helping hubby when he's on the skids.

She keeps everyone fed, cooks up stew, and bakes bread, fries the sausage.

It's all work and no play every weekday, but on Saturday Sofie shouts stop!

No more dishes in her hand, she goes touring with her band on the weekend.

Everyone begins to shake it, when Sofie strips down naked and does the gogo.

Every Don and every Danny loves her cute little fanny as she does the gogo.

You should see the happy rockers when Sofie shakes her knockers...

- Where am I? - In the zone.

If only it could always be like this. - Light and easy.

- Light? - Like all the harmonies?

Yes, the harmonies are always in harmony.

They sure are harmonious, those harmonies.

Unlike real life?

Yes, real life is way too disharmonious.

Remember Mom?

"The sun loves rising to music.

That's why it uses the horizon as a violin string.

It pushes itself slowly up above the sea.

Listen close, and you'll hear -

- a fine little tone."

I'm thirsty.

Two people in the sun.

Two hearts beat as one.

I think that would make Ruth happy.

Sun, wind, sea and sand. A woman and a man.

A woman and a man.

Are you asleep?

Are you asleep?

Are you asleep?

Hello, darling.

Were you asleep? I've got a present for you.

Listen.

Two people in the sun. Two hearts beat as one.

Sun, wind, sea and sand. A woman and a man.

Not now.

She gives him her hand. He loosens a band.

She tells him no and then here we go again.

Not now, John.

Because it's summer, sun's in the sky and life is just grand.

They run around throwing stones and do whatever they want.

- It's for you, darling. - Stop it.

Two people in the sun. Two hearts beat as one.

Sun, wind, sea and sand. A woman and a man.

- What do you think? - I don't want a song.

I need you. You've been away on tour for five weeks -

- and it ended three days ago.

But it's for you, darling. Two people in the sun...

- Stop it. - It's for you! It's love.

- Get out. - It's love, darling. I love you.

- Ruth, goddamn it, I love you! - Get out!

I love you, goddamn it! Ruth, I love you.

Aw, goddamn it! Cut it out!

Let go! Not in the face!

- Stop... I love you. - I love you!

I love you!

What the hell are you doing?

Who the hell is that?

It's your daughter.

Man, she's grown.

I've been thinking -

- and what I need now is to play to fewer people.

A more serious gig at a fixed venue. No more touring.

And I must say, Thøger, I love your place.

The smell of popcorn gets to you after a while.

Rost is good. You've got a huge audience.

You're selling thousands of records.

You have, what, 200-300 gigs a year?

Hey, Thøger.

- Hell, isn't that Cornelis Vreeswijk? - He's playing tonight.

I was doing this crappy gig in Sweden when I first saw him perform on TV.

He pushes himself, too.

Sorry, but I think you're a lot alike in that regard.

Yeah, it gets tough now and then.

But Cornelis's music is very uncompromising. Not always as...

...as popular as yours.

His lyrics are just a little bit more profound.

This venue is for artists.

You're more a man of the people, aren't you?

Still, some of my artists would give anything to have what you have.

So frankly speaking, John -

- I don't think you'll ever be satisfied.

Not out there or in here.

But it was nice seeing you.

And you're doing great. Congratulations.

Thanks, Thøger.

A bit louder, please.

...two, three. One, two, three.

One day in November

the sky put on a frown.

And then out of the clouds

the rain came pouring down.

So people on the street

were drenched and in dismay.

And on that day it happened

that I saw the light of day.

They put me in a cradle

a gilded one, you see.

And then all day and night

they poured rich cream in me.

Cream?

On Sundays, they fed him sour cream.

John!

John!

I gladly will admit that if nobody else will.

A cradle, a cradle

I never had one of those.

They put me in a box and stuffed it with old clothes.

My old man died and then my mom kicked the bucket, too.

So what was this little boy from the slums supposed to do?

John?

John... John!

Come on.

- Where the hell is Mogens? - Mogens is sick. Hell, I told you.

- Does that thing even play? - Sure he does. Don't you?

- Sure. I even have a name. - He looks like a Christmas tree.

- Hey, my name's Haldur. - The show's off, then.

- I can't go on stage with a Haldur. - We can't call it off, John.

Come on, we'll do our 20 minutes. It's only five songs.

Okay?

- John, pull yourself together. - You're just a lousy musician, Lennart.

You're only here at my mercy.

- Why is he such a bastard? - Shut your goddamn hippie ass or scram!

I'm sorry.

You're a damn good musician. You hear?

You're one of the boys. You're gonna make it big.

You are. You're my chief officer.

I won't give up on you, got it?

- You're damn good. - Alright, John.

John...

John.

You're whining today, aren't you?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, little friend.

I'm sorry.

We owe everyone money.

These bills go back six months.

John.

We'll just have to start from the top.

- Hi, Dad. - Hi, girlie.

- Let's grab a beer tonight. - Minna!

It's been ages since he's hung out with his daughter.

Let's go to the summerhouse.

- John! - What?

Bent is dead.

- What's that? - Bent is dead!

Hey, Bent had a great life.

He croaked in a cheap hotel in the sticks?

41 years old.

He opened the door to life, stuck out his nose -

- and got his head cut off. Great life.

We are all becoming liberal cronies. Putting up with all kinds of nonsense.

Everyone has a say, even the loonies.

What's he singing?

What a troubadour.

Lay off, John. They're paying us a bundle. It's half an hour.

He sure doesn't like my song.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with Denmark

nothing is going down the drain.

While the prophets cry to the sky

we'll pull together again and again.

I tip my hat to the man

who toils away most every day.

Oh, how the prophets would be in a fix

if no one paid their tax.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

I'll shut up now because I've just heard that the main attraction -

- a man much more interesting than me, is on his way.

This is it, champ.

John Mogensen!

Well...

We can't wait to hear if there's still something wrong in Denmark.

Mind you, I think it's a terrific song.

I hear that John has no political agenda with that song and I thank him for that.

If only more artists would be like John and drop the opinions -

- and stick to what they do best instead. Thank you.

Erhard, what a big shot.

You sing so much better than Elvis.

Erhard, so bright and so wise.

You herd us as if we were sheep.

Erhard, you think for us all.

You keep us all in the fold.

Super brain, we hear all your words.

They all come to us just like this:

Bla bla bla bla...

- What was that all about? - I've had it!

- Oh, that old song? - James is goofing off in Hollywood.

Poul is a born-again Christian. Bent is dead. They're all dead!

- We're wasting our time. - Be happy for a change!

Why, I'm very happy. Can't you see?

- What is it you want? - Something big.

You're John, for chrissakes.

Once me and the boys were shitfaced, we agreed we'd do La Malagueña.

What's that?

It was impossible, but we damn well did it.

Cornelis can pack a big house.

That band Gasolin' can pack a big house. Why the hell can't I?

I want to play the big venues. I'm through with flatbed trucks.

Well, you're not a drunk Swede or a pimpled teenager from the city.

- You're John, goddamn it! - I'm John Mogensen, goddamn it!

And I want to play the big venues, and you bloody well better get me there!

Got it? I've had it with this crap!

John!

You'll be fine. You can do it. Like always.

Ready? The house is completely packed!

Everyone's here. Everyone!

The culture channel wants to interview you. On the radio!

All the ministers are there and Gasolin' and Helle Virkner.

All the important cultural celebrities are there. All to see you!

Ready?

Let's go.

Let's pull ourselves together, John.

Crappy county fairs and Rost and all his crap are out!

It's time to work off our tax debt, take care of Minna -

- and kiss Ruth. Out of the ditch and back in the saddle.

Ready, champ?

Are you ready, goddamn it?

Yes.

Go on!

What the fuck?

What the fucking hell?!

You whine and you moan

say you can't go on.

You protest like mad

get more wrinkles than you ever had.

John... John.

It's time.

Think you can do it?

- We're on now. - Where's Ruth?

She's back home, but we're only a few miles away.

- What are we gonna play? - The usual. We start with Shake It.

- As Long as I Live... - Try to hit the keys for once, okay?

- Think you can do it? - Come on.

You sharpen your elbows, dig in your heels

don't know the word stop.

You've got no filter, and you're never quite on top.

You forgot to see your wife

and the apple of your eye.

She's not at the table.

She yells a lot of things.

It's time to bloody stop

and take a look around.

'Cause when you see the grass growing

and the leaves returning in the wood

was there then more

between you and your God?

I said when you see the grass growing

and the leaves returning in the wood

was there then more

between you and your God?

But you're such a busy man

you don't listen, you don't see.

Into the car, briefcase in hand.

Hey, what almost came to be?

Your heart is hurting bad.

Let's hope nothing's wrong with you.

Lately it's been hurting

like it's choking you.

It's here, it's now

it's here and now

it's going down.

But when you see the grass growing

and the leaves returning in the wood

was there then more

between you and your God?

I said when you see the grass growing

and the leaves returning in the wood

was there then more

between you

and your God?

John Mogensen died on 10 April 1977

John Mogensen died on 10 April 1977 48 years old.

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