All language subtitles for I.Am.Not.There.2007.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

There he lies.

God rest his soul,
and his rudeness.

A devouring public can now share
the remains of his sickness,

and his phone numbers.

There he lay...

poet,

prophet,

outlaw,

fake.

Star of electricity.

Nailed by a peeping Tom

who would soon discover...

A poem is like a naked person.

Even the ghost...

was more than one person.

But a song is something
that walks by itself.

# Aw, the ragman draws circles #

# Up and down the block #

# I'd ask him what the matter was #

# But I know that he don't talk #

# And the ladies treat me kindly #

# And they furnish me with tape #

# But deep inside my heart #

# I know I can't escape #

# Oh, Mama #

# Can this really be the end #

# To be stuck inside of Mobile #

# With the Memphis blues again? #

# Well, Shakespeare, he's in the alley #

# With his pointed shoes and his bells #

# Speaking to some French girl #

# Who says she knows me well #

# And I would send a message #

# To find out if she's talked #

# But the post office has been stolen #

# And the mailbox is locked #

# Oh, Mama #

# Can this really be the end #

# To be stuck inside of Mobile #

# With the Memphis blues again? #

# Now the rain man gave me two cures #

# Then he said, "Jump right in" #

# The one was Texas medicine #

# The other was just railroad gin #

# And like a fool I mixed them #

# And it strangled up my mind #

# And now people just get uglier #

# And I have no sense of time #

# Oh, Mama #

# Can this really be the end #

# To be stuck here inside of Mobile #

# With the Memphis blues again? #

Hey. How old are you, boy?

Eleven years old.

Oh.

What's your name, son?

Woody.

Woody Guthrie.

Just like the singer.

Way I see it,

singin's kept me right in this world
more than any Bible's ever done.

And somethin' else I learned?

Takes just about a fountain pen
to get yourself robbed.

Hey, Joe. What do you
make about that?

Uh, son...

you wouldn't be stashin' no weapons
in that case of yours?

No, sir. Not in any literalized way.

What'd you say his name was?

A- R-T-H.

Please sit down.

"A-R-T-H-U-R...

R-I-M-B-A-U-D."

Born October 20th.

That makes you 19,
nearly 20.

Is that correct?

That's correct.

So what's all this about?

Well, Missouri, originally.

A little town called Riddle.

But all over, really.

Been to Gallup, Phillipsburg,
Sioux Falls...

I got me a cousin in Sioux Falls.

Yeah! That's right.

Uh, is there really
a town called Riddle?

Tell you the flat truth,
that's sort of a... a whatchamacallit.

A, uh...

A composite.

A compost heap is more like it.

Truth is, my mind
got mixed with ramblin'

when I was, oh, so young.

I reckon it was Arvella Gray,

the blind protest singer from Chicago.

She first taught me the blues

four...

about five years back.

That's also when I first started
writin' songs on my own.

I've written some hillbilly songs.

You know Carl Perkins,
from Nashville?

Yeah, yeah.

He sings some of my songs.

Yep. Talkin' blues kind
of stuff, you know?

Union songs.

I also played piano with Bobby Vee.

I would've been a millionaire
if I stayed with him.

Well, what brings you
around these parts?

Carelessness.

I lost my one true love.

And I started drinking.

Next thing I know, I'm in a crap game.

I wake up in a pool hall.

One night, I meet up with a Chinaman

working at a dime store
who says he loves my sound.

And next thing I know,

I'm all booked up
at his boss's establishment.

The Tiny Troubadour!

# I've been a... #

# Moonshiner #

# For 17 long years #

There you go, boy.

Of course, success ain't all

it's cracked up to be, now.

There's something
sort of freakish, I suppose,

setting someone up on stage
apart from all the rest,

when down in every boxcar
there's men of all ranges bouncing together.

You got hobos, nobos,
gentlemen loafers.

One or all-time losers.

Call us what you will.

Deep down, we're all getting ready

to tuck our heads
under our wings for sleep.

We of the Pullman side-car
and the sunburned thumb.

We ain't kidding ourselves.

It's lonesome roads we shall walk.

Till I joined the Union cause!

Don't he know it's 1959?

We done unionized 20 years ago.

Records indicate that you've been away,

that you've stopped writing.

I've been on too many streets

to be doing the same thing
over and over.

Can I smoke in here?

You sound,

for someone so widely known,

a bit fatalistic.

I'm not fatalistic.

Bank tellers are fatalistic.

Clerks are fatalistic.

I'm a farmer.

Who ever heard
of a fatalistic farmer?

# The sweet, pretty things
are in bed now, of course #

# The city fathers,
they're trying to endorse #

# The reincarnation
of Paul Revere's horse #

# But the town has no need
to be nervous #

# The hysterical bride
in the penny arcade #

# Screaming, she moans,
"I've just been made" #

# Then sends out for the doctor
who pulls down the shade #

# Says, "My advice
is to not let the boys in" #

# Where Ma Raney and Beethoven
once unwrapped their bed roll #

# Tuba players now rehearse
around the flagpole #

# And the national bank for a profit #

# Sells road maps for the soul #

# To the old folks home
and the college #

# Mama's in the factory #

# She ain't got no shoes #

# Daddy's in the alley #

# He's lookin' for food #

# I'm in the kitchen #

# With the tombstone blues #

# Hey, hey, yeah #

Whoo!

Oh!

Boy, look like you found...
you found your freedom

before you found your technique.

Now, real American music
come from the bottom up.

You take Blind Willie McTell.

He's the best blues singer
east of Cannery Row.

He say, "Son, if you can
sing these songs

and understand them,
ain't no place you can't go.

Ah, thank you very much, ma'am.

You're welcome.

I reckon I come out the womb

singing and picking
and playing and all that mess.

So where your people at?

Your kinfolk?

Oh, they back in Stockton, ma'am.

California.
That's where I was raised.

I figured they got plenty
of mouths to feed as it is.

Not that I care a fig about material things,

you know, except for
maybe a decent car.

See, us thumb-slummers
and box-jumpers,

we get a little peckish
when it comes to cars, you know?

That boy sound just like Doughboy Hawkins,

a fella I met in the Dust Bowl.

Tell you what I think.
I think it's 1959,

and this boy's singing
songs about the boxcar?

Hmm. What a boxcar
gonna mean to him?

Right here, we got race riots,
folks with no food.

Why ain't he out there
singing about that?

The boy a guest in our house.

I know he's a guest.
I'm just trying to speak what's in my mind.

No!

Say it.

Live your own time, child.

Sing about your own time.

Greenwich Village,

once the in spot
for beatnik jazz and bebop,

is today home
to the popular folk music fad,

a do-it-yourself musical expression

that's attracted youngsters
from all across the nation.

For them,
these homespun songs of the working man

express a truth and candor

sorely lacking in today's
growing consumer society.

Why do you prefer folk music
to other types of music?

Because it's honest.

Commercial songs,
pop music can't be honest.

It's controlled and censored
by the people who run society

and make the rules.

Yet, among the many new

and talented artists to emerge,

one name stands alone
as the heart and soul

of this growing musical trend.

A young individual
who both writes and performs

some of his era's finest tunes,

and hailed by the New York Times

as folk music's
Troubadour of Conscience.

His name is Jack Rollins.

Jack Rollins,

folk sensation of the early '60s,

was the promise of a new generation.

So what was it that made him run

at the height of his career
and throw it all away,

trading in the limelight
for a different kind of light altogether?

He saw what was going on
in the world,

and he had the ability
to distill it into a song.

He could do a funny thing.

He could do a pathos thing.
He was sensational.

# For the times, they are a-changin' #

Now, this young man has
taken to the hearts of young people

who seem to somehow identify with, uh...

Jack, why do you think that is?

Well, I don't know.

I... I guess...

I got a lot of thoughts inside of me,

and most people, they...

they... keep them all inside.

And I guess it's for them
that I do what I do.

Today, the name Jack Rollins

might best be remembered
as the tortured singer

battling his conscience
in the 1965 drama,

Grain of Sand.

The role, of course,
that launched the career

of Hollywood rebel Robbie Clark.

Hell, I don't pick what I sing.

It picks me.

Some of it ain't pretty.

I mean, how you ever
gonna change anything

if you only wanna show what's pretty?

In his first exclusive interview in 20 years...

Tonight, we bring you face-to-face
with the real Jack Rollins.

# William Zanzinger
killed poor Hattie Carroll #

# With a cane that he twirled #

# 'Round his diamond ring finger #

He saw what was going on
in the world,

and he had the ability
to distill it into a song.

And this elevated the discussion.

I mean, certainly
within the folk world,

but all through popular music,
the bar had risen.

Alice Fabian

was herself a leading figure
in the folk revival,

achieving international success

a few years before
their first meeting in 1962.

Hey, you're in my chair.

I was at a party in the Village,

and this twerpy little kid
who'd been hanging around,

kind of flirting with my baby sister
and kissing up to me,

starts playing these songs
that he'd written on guitar.

Now, this was '61, '62,

and all anybody sang were traditionals,

and here's this kid, applying traditional form
to contemporary concerns,

but with such insight, you know?

It was devastating.

You couldn't believe
this was coming out of this little toad.

Nobody was writing songs like that.

It was as if he was giving voice to ideas

that I wanted to express
but didn't know how.

Um, his finger-pointing songs,
he called 'em.

He was churning them out
like ticker tape.

Well, folk music has always
been a political music,

but he was really expressing
it as an art form

in a way that was multileveled and very deep.

# Hattie Carroll
was a maid of the kitchen #

# She was 51 years old #

# And gave birth to ten children #

# Who carried the dishes
and took out the garbage #

# And never sat once
at the head of the table #

# And didn't even talk
to the people at the table #

# She just cleaned up
all the food from the table #

# And emptied the ashtrays
on a whole other level #

# Got killed by a blow,
lay slain by a cane #

Every night,

I would call this ragamuffin on stage

and introduce America
to Jack Rollins.

I'd say, you know,
that he has something to say,

you know, and that he is...
he is speaking for me

and everybody who wants
a better world.

# Oh, but you who
philosophize disgrace #

# And criticize all fears #

# Bury the rag deep in your face #

# Now is the time for your tears #

He knows how to peel the surface

from what he sees.

His songs are like a true vision
of how things really are.

Well, I just find
he's the most piercing

and aware insight working today.

You'd have thought we invented it,

we were so pleased and proud.

Sure, there was a certain tendency
in the folk movement

for nostalgia about the Depression

and the radicalism
that came out of it.

They were coming out
of a shitty time...

the McCarthy era, Eisenhower era.

So, as long as folk remained
strictly a minority taste,

it would always be us against the big, bad
commercial tastelessness.

But when the big, bad commercial
tastelessness

finally caught on to Jack,

then, well, all of a sudden,

the race was on.

And this time,
somebody was going to win.

He was a rebel.

I wanted to record protest.

Of course, that's right
when we were getting

into that whole Nam business.

Jack really stopped protesting after 1963.

He said that you couldn't
effect change with a song.

You could only write
about what was inside you,

and folk music, he said, was, um...

was fat people.

He said it made him feel
like the Establishment,

you know, and he always
fought the Establishment.

# You will search, babe #

# At any cost #

# Everybody will help you #

# Some people are very kind #

# And if I... #

# Can save you any time #

# Come on, give it to me #

# I'll keep it with mine #

You don't have to write anything down

to be a poet.

Some work in gas stations.

Some shine shoes.

I don't really call myself one,
'cause I don't like the word.

Me, I'm a trapeze artist.

Sighting it and hearing it
and breathing it in,

rubbing it all in the pores of my skin.

And the wind between my eyes

knocking honey in my comb.

You reckon he's some kind of midget?

Get off of there, grunt!

I ain't doing nothing!

Now look what you done!

You talk English?

Yes, sir.

You carrying money, boy?

Weapons?

N-No, sir.

He's lying.

What's that?

That your fiddle? Huh?

Give it back. Huh?

What's it say on that thing?

What you got stashed in here?

Nothing!

Get him, boys!

Ahh!

Ah, you little...

Give me...

This here young'un,
the Tiny Troubadour,

is going to sing a little song.

So what bring you around these parts?

Could've sworn he was an older man.

Live your own time, child.

Get him, boys!

You reckon he's
some kind of midget?

He's lying!

I dreamed of the Crusades.

Republics without history.

Secret religious wars.

I believed in every kind
of witchcraft.

At first it was a study.

I wrote out silences and nights.

Later I determined vertigos.

Here's the boot camps, with tanks, jeeps,

bullet-shooting machine guns,
and 80 soldiers.

I just don't want to go.

Oh, my poor, sad little thing.

Do you know what a wonderful time
you're going to have...

on a boat with the water?

Sounds pretty neat
what your daddy's planned.

Me, too!

Why can't you come?

Molly, you know I can't come.

Is that why...

you think you're feeling
nervous about the boat?

Hmm?

When's Daddy coming?

Uh, Saturday, I think.

I only spoke to Sally
because it's impossible

to get your father on the phone.

It's Emily.

Molly, you didn't eat a thing.

Bonjour, Hotel Georges V.

How may I direct your call?

Robbie... how can you whistle?

Who was that on the phone?

President Nixon

has already given advanced word

of what he will say
to Vice President Agnew,

to the Cabinet,
and to the leaders of Congress.

Now, here is the president.

I have asked for this radio

and television time tonight

for the purpose of announcing

that we today have concluded
an agreement to end the war

and bring peace with honor in Vietnam
and in southeast Asia.

The following statement
is being issued at this moment

in Washington and Hanoi.

At 12:30 Paris time today,
January 23, 1973...

# Ain't it just like
the night to play tricks #

# When you're trying to be so quiet? #

That's when she knew it was over for good.

The longest-running war
in television history.

The war that hung like a shadow

over the same nine years
as her marriage.

Throughout the years
of negotiations,

we have insisted
on peace with honor.

# Lights flicker from the opposite loft #

So why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

# In this room,
the heat pipes just cough #

# The country music
station plays soft #

# But there's nothing,
really nothing to turn off #

# Just Louise and her lover #

# So entwined #

- # And these visions #
- Thanks.

# Of Johanna #

# That conquer my mind #

More menacing, Gladys.

And... cut!

Check the gate.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I wish to thank each and every one of you.

You made it marvelous for me.

Cheers to all of you.

Hey, Louise! Louise!

# So this is what
salvation must be like #

# After a while #

In entertainment news,

actor Robbie Clark
is finally heading home

after four months abroad
during the filming of Gangplank,

his upcoming thriller.

Rumors linking Clark
to his London co-star,

the lovely newcomer Louise Pickering,

have been brewing for some time.

# She's all right,
she's just near #

# She's delicate
and seems like the mirror #

# But she just makes it #

# All too concise and too clear #

# That Johanna's not here #

# Oh, the ghost of electricity #

# Howls in the bones of her face #

# Where these visions
of Johanna #

# Have now taken my place #

Don't you see, Alice? They took it all away.

It's not about me anymore;
it's all about him.

Your guaranteed,

double-your-money-back
voice of the people.

You didn't answer my question.

Once, maybe, you could sing

about Mary Hamilton and lemon trees,

or you can step out like me
and try and shake this flytrap.

But they took away the meaning, Alice.

I was a pawn in their game.

And cut!

We first met in New York,

in January of '64 in the Village.

They'd just buried their president.

Love was in the air.

- Wait, you're French?
- Yeah, so?

- Well, you gotta be kidding me.
- Why?

No, nothing. It's perfect.

You kidding?

I think you're making a joke.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

No joke.

Then what else
aside from being French

you like so much about me?

Your hair, your mouth,
your eyes, your lips.

I see.

So, um...

You're an actor.

Yeah, yeah. So?

I like what you said in that scene.

Uh, what scene?

But they were just lines from a movie.

- They were not...
- Wait, wait, wait. What scene?

- What did you see?
- The scene in the lane.

Hmm.

I would like to know
what is at the center of your world.

The center of my world?

Uh...

Well, you're no monkeying around.

Why?

It's very simple, this question.

Um... hmm.

Well, I'm 22.
I guess I would say me.

I suppose you're honest.

Well, don't you think
that you're the center

or that you should be the center,

thinking with your own head,
talking with your own mouth?

Yeah.

But there are things in the world, too,
that are important.

I'm not denying that.

That's not what I'm saying.

Okay, thank you.

New York, August 7, 1964.

Congress grants President Johnson

complete authority
over the war in Vietnam

while she studies painting
at Cooper Union

and he completes dubbing
on his first major film.

She tells him she's sure it'll be a hit.

And the cats cross the roof,
mad in love,

scream into drainpipes,

and it's I who am ready.

Ready to listen.

Never tired, never sad, never guilty.

# The guilty undertaker sighs #

# The lonesome
organ-grinder cries #

# The silver saxophones
say I should refuse you #

# The cracked bells and washed out horns #

# Blow into my face with scorn #

# But it's not that way #

# I wasn't born to lose you #

# I want you #

# I want you #

# I want you so bad #

# Honey, I want you #

# The drunken politician leaps #

# Upon the street
where mothers weep #

# And the saviors
who are fast asleep #

# They wait for you #

# And I wait for them to interrupt #

# Me drinking
from my broken cup #

# And ask me to open up
the gate for you #

# I want you #

# I want you #

# Yes, I want you so bad #

# Honey, I want you #

# Now all my fathers,
they've gone down #

# True love, they've been without it #

# But all their daughters
put me down #

# 'Cause I don't think about it #

# Well, I return
to the Queen of Spades #

# And talk with
my chambermaid #

# She knows and she's
not afraid to look at her #

Shit! You all right?

# She is good to me
and there's nothing she... #

Watch it!

It's not a fucking can of tomatoes.

# But it doesn't matter #

# I want you #

# I want you #

# Yes, I want you so bad #

# Honey, I want you #

# Now, your dancing child
with his Chinese suit #

# He spoke to me, I took his flute #

# No, I wasn't very cute
to him, was I? #

Okay, come on, let's go.

# But I did it
because you lied #

# And because
he took you for a ride #

It is my bike, you know.

Of course it is.

# Because I want you #

# I want you #

# Yes, I want you so bad #

All right, here we go.

Watch your leg.

- Change the gear!
- I am, I am!

- Change the gear!
- Yeah, I know, I know.

"It's wrong to say, 'I think. '

"One should say, 'I am thought. '

"I is someone else.

"I am present at the birth
of my thought.

"I watch and I listen.

"I draw a stroke of the bow.

"A symphony stirs in the depths,

"or comes with a leap
to the stage.

"It began with waves of disgust

and it ends... as we can't
immediately seize this eternity...

it ends with a riot of perfumes. "

Grain of Sand had become

the underground hit of 1965,

and Robbie Clark
the new James Dean,

Marlon Brando, and Jack Kerouac
all rolled into one.

But the movie disappointed her.

The more they tried
to make it youthful,

the more the images on screen
seemed out of date.

It wasn't the film they had dreamed,

the film they had
imagined and discussed,

the film they each wanted to live.

Intriguing specimen, really.

Amazing endocrine system.

So, he'll be all right, then?

Oh, he'll be fine.

Just a little water in the lungs.

Oh, my.

Well, what do you know?

Looks like somebody might be able
to thank you in person.

Son? Can you hear me?

I'm Dr. Field.

And this here lady
pretty near saved your life.

Hello there.

I-I'm Mrs. Peacock.

My husband and I,
we're the ones that found you.

# Oh, the time will come up
when the winds will stop #

# And the breeze will cease
to be breathin' #

# Like the stillness in the wind #

# Before the hurricane begins #

# The hour that
the ship comes in #

# And the sea will split
and the ships will hit #

# And the sands on the shoreline #

# Will be shaken #

# And the tide will pound
and the waves will sound #

# And the mornin' will be a-breakin' #

And no formal training?
Remarkable.

# Sayin' we'll meet
all your demands #

# But we'll shout from the bow
"Your days are numbered" #

# And like Pharaoh's tribe #

# They'll be drownin' in the tide #

# And like Goliath #

# They'll be conquered #

- Just terrific!
- Fantastic!

That was a fine job.

- Thank you, thank you.
- That's just wonderful.

How about another helping?

- Woody?
- Yes, ma'am.

More wine, Woody?

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Do you know
what your plans are from here?

My only real plan
is to become a singer,

a real singer on television,

either that or a kind of voice
of the people, you know?

Interesting.

Because I've been
writing me some songs,

songs about what's going on.

And I'm going
to take these songs,

and I'm going to head
straight to Hollywood.

Going to make it big just like Elvis Presley.

Well, Woody, I wouldn't be surprised

if you did just that.

- There you are, Woody.
- Thank you.

And don't you go rushing off anyplace
until you feel 1000/0, you hear?

Yes, ma'am.

Have to mother you while you still have
a roof over your head.

Who on earth?

- Are you expecting a call?
- No.

So, Hollywood?

- Hello?
- Not Tin Pan Alley?

Yes, it is. Who's calling?

Minnesota?

Well, how could...

Dr. Field, yes.

Would you hold on
just a moment, please?

Esther?

It's a juvenile center in Minnesota.

A what?

Something... Corrections.

You talk to 'em, Jack.

They think it's Woody.

What do they know about Woody?

They said they're looking for some...

a juvenile, but...

some state, you know, fugitive.

Certainly not Woody.

# Seen the arrow on the doorpost #

# Sayin' this land is condemned #

Now, I'm just one walker that's stood way up

and looked way down
across plenty o' sights

in all their veiled
and nakedest seasons.

Sighting it, hearing it,

seeing and feeling
and breathing it in.

Sucking down on it.

Rubbing it all
in the pores of my skin,

and the wind between my eyes

knocking honey in my comb.

Whoa.

# Blind Willie Mc Tell #

# See them big plantations burnin' #

# Hear the crackin' of the whips #

# Smell that sweet
magnolia bloomin' #

# See the ghost of slavery ships #

May I help you?

Flowers for Mr. Guthrie.

Room 300. Just set 'em inside.

Thank you, ma'am.

# Well, God is in His heaven #

# And we all want what's His #

# But power and greed
and corruptible seed #

# Seem to be all that there is #

# I'm gazin' out the window #

# Of the St. James Hotel #

# And I know no one
can sing the blues #

# Like Blind Willie Mc Tell #

I remember, uh,

Kennedy's funeral was on TV,
and we were sitting outside.

You could hear it.

I was pulling up
chunks of grass with my fist

and feeling like we were splitting apart.

And... And, yeah, I asked him

what did he think
made us so different?

And he said it was simple.

You know, I thought
that I could change things,

and he knew that no one could.

You know, look at Kennedy.

Then there was the fiasco
at the Civil Liberties Union,

where Jack received
the Civil Rights Award

and drank three vats of wine
for the trouble.

Thank you.

I wanna accept this
on behalf of, uh,

everybody that
went down to Cuba.

First of all,
because you're all young, you know?

And it's took me
a long time to get young,

and now I consider myself young.

And I'm proud of it.

It ain't old people's world out there.

I mean, you all
shouldn't even be here.

I mean... it's not like before.

There's no black or white,

no more left wing,
right wing, you know?

There's up wing
and there's down wing,

which is why I think that, you know,

this man who shot President Kennedy,

this Lee Oswald,

I think I saw something
that... that he felt... in me.

Hey, but I'm just saying...

You can boo, but booing's
got nothing to do with it!

They didn't understand me,
you know,

because they got mind blinders on.

All they see is the cause

and how they use people
for their cause.

And now they're trying
to use me for something.

The want me to... want me
to carry a picket sign

and have my picture taken,

be a good little nigger, you know,

and not mess up their little game.

All they want from me
is finger-pointing songs.

I only got ten fingers.

Anybody who lent that kid a dime

was sitting in that room that night.

A week later, he issued
a formal apology.

It's a fierce, heavy feeling,

thinking that something's expected of you,

but you don't know exactly what it is.

Brings forth a weird kind of guilt.

Woody Guthrie was dead.

Little Richard
was becoming a preacher.

So, whether you were
a folk singer or a Christian,

rock and roll was the devil.

Me, I was in a ditch, up a cliff,

out of step, ready to quit.

I wrote the kind of stuff
you write when you have no place to live

and you're wrapped up
in the fire pump.

I nearly killed myself
with pity and despair.

And then I wrote it.

It was like swimming in lava.

Skipping, kicking,

catching a nail with your foot,

seeing your victim
hanging from a tree.

The person who's coming out now

is a person who has, in a sense,

changed the face
of American folk music...

Ladies and gentlemen,

the person
who's coming out now...

...is a legend in his time.

And his name is Jude Quinn!

# Well, I try my best
to be just like I am #

# But everybody wants you
to be just like them #

# They say sing while you slave
but I just get bored #

# Well, I ain't gonna work
on Maggie's farm no more #

I want that volume down now!

I can't turn the volume down!

- I can't even hear the words!
- Hey, man...

Hey what's wrong?

Man, what are you going to do?

What are you going to do up there?

I'm going to cut
the goddamn... lead!

Sorry for everything I've done,

and, uh, I hope
to remedy it soon.

- Shit!
- Crap!

Garbage! J'accuse!

Ah, it's just like
he's trying to conform

to some sort of popular taste

with this incredibly
corny group behind him,

but he's just... he's just prostituting himself.

He's... He's just
changed completely.

He's changed from what he was.

He's not the same
as he was at first.

Nothing but a fake neurotic

crawling through the gutter.

If that is the way
he walks through a gutter,

I would rather walk with my head up
through a gutter than like him,

crawling through the bloody gutter,

just making a pile out of it!

That's what he is doing!

He is just making a pile out of it!

I kinda liked getting
blasted out of my skin.

I think he's evil.

And we were his biggest fans.

# You've got a lot of nerve #

# To say you are my friend #

# When I was down #

# You just stood there grinning #

# You've got a lot of nerve #

# To say you got
a helping hand to lend #

# You just want to be #

# On the side that's winning #

It's not folk, it's not rock,

but a brand-new way
of telling it like it is.

And Jude Quinn is definitely what's happening.

Here he comes now.

Mr. Quinn! Mr. Quinn!

Have you got a word
for your fans?

Uh, astronaut.

# What a drag it is #

# To see you #

- Mr. Quinn!
- Mr. Quinn!

- Over here!
- Mr. Quinn!

- Yes?
- Look over here, Jude!

Thank you.

Why do you think you were booed

at your recent appearance
in New England?

Well, um, I f...

I figure there's
a little boo in all of us.

- Jude!
- Mr. Quinn, Mr. Quinn!

Is it true you no longer
sing protest songs?

Who said that?

I didn't say that.

I was just, uh... I read somewhere
that you no longer do the protesting.

Well, that's all I ever do is protest.

Do you have a message?

Do you?

I mean, are you trying
to accomplish anything?

Am I trying to accomplish anything?

Are you trying to change
the world or anything?

What am I trying to change
the word, did you say? Is...

You know, are you trying
to push your idealism to the people?

- No.
- Excuse me, Mr. Quinn.

Perhaps you could tell us...

Do you have a match?

...how many people who labor
in the same musical vineyards

in which you toil...

That's very pretty.

How many would you say
are protest singers today?

That is, people who protest
against the social state we live in?

Uh, how many?

Yes. Are there many?

Yeah, um...

I-I think there's about 136.

Mr. Quinn, Keenan Jones
from Culture Beat.

As someone symbolic of the protest
movement among young people,

some have questioned,
given your latest recordings,

whether or not you still care
about people as you once did.

Yeah, but, you know,

we all have our own definitions
of all those words.

"Care" and "people..."

Well, I think we all know
the definition of people.

Yeah.

Do we?

Well, is it your belief,
then, that folk music

has, perchance, failed to achieve
its goals with the Negro cause

or the cause of peace?

You know, saying "cause of peace"

is just like saying...
like a hunk of butter.

You know, I don't know
how you can listen to anybody

who wants you to believe
is dedicated to the hunk

and not the butter.

I'm not sure I follow.

You know, I didn't come
out of some cereal box.

There's... There's no one out there

who's ever going to be
converted by a song.

There's no Phil Ochs song
that's going to keep

a movement moving
nor the picket line picketing.

His songs are acts
of personal conscience,

like burning a draft card
or burning yourself.

Doesn't do a damn thing
except disassociate you

and your audience from
all the evils of the world.

I refuse to be
disassociated from that.

All these people, you know,

sitting around being offended
by their own meaninglessness.

What am I asking?

I'm asking for your
goddamn hotel security

to keep these assholes out of the lobby.

What? What?

And you, sir, are one of the dumbest assholes
and most stupid persons

I've ever spoken to
in my life, understand?

What?

Well, I certainly hope so.

Son of a bitch English bastard.

Meaningless is right.

Do you think the average cat
who works eight hours a day

gives a tit what I do?

Anyway, it's not going
to keep me in heaven

or out of the fiery furnace, that's for sure.

Not gonna make me happy.

Let me see that.

Whoa, there she is again,
your little debutante.

No way, man.

Is that Andy's new bird?
Coco something?

Rivington.

Coco Rivington Rockefeller,
Mrs. Howell III.

She's queen of the underground,
and I don't mean tube.

She's got good style.

- I'd ball her.
- Be my guest.

I think she's even here in, uh, London.

She's here?

So you dated her, did you?

Never. That girl's trouble.

Will you invite her to the party?

Sure. I always invite trouble.

# I'm beginning to hear voices #

# And there's no one around #

# Well, I'm all used up #

# Yeah #

# And the fields
have turned brown #

Hold on a sec. There's someone at the door.

If it's that fucking concierge again,

I swear to God...

Yeah, who is it?

They're going to have to come up

with some different numbers
if they want this to work.

No. Stu...

I'm not going to talk
about this all goddamn day.

"Puffing heavily on his cigarette,

he smokes 80 a day."

Sinatra wants it.

God. I'm glad I'm not me.

Hey! I've got something to say to you.

- Whoa!
- Hey, fuck off!

- It's him I'm talkin' at.
- Yeah, I'm listenin', man.

- Traitor! You wanker!
- Listen, pal.

If you know what's good for you, you'll turn
right around and get the fuck out of here.

Come on. Hey!

Hurry up.

Jason! You got to get in here, man.
You better hurry.

- It's your boy I want.
- Put that knife down. You hear me?

- Hey, man.
- Jesus Christ.

Are you out of your fuckin' mind?
What are you gonna do? Stab us all?

It's his fault! He's the one.

Stabbing truth in the eye.

I'm listening.
What's the truth, man?

Easy, easy, easy.
Now just put that down...

No! Walk away.

- Just relax.
- Hey, back up.

Either be groovy or leave, man.

- Is he okay?
- Yeah.

Everybody all right?

- Thanks for steppin' in.
- My pleasure.

Just like a woman.

# They sat together in the park #

# As the evening sky grew dark #

# She looked at him
and he felt a spark #

# Tingle to his bones #

# 'Twas then he felt alone #

# And wished that he'd gone straight #

# And watched out
for a simple twist of fate #

# They walked along
by the old canal #

# A little confused, I remember well #

Claire! Claire, honey,
you got to meet someone.

Hang on a second. Am I shitting you?

- Dirty son of a gun.
- Claire, this is Sidney Green.

A very bad old friend of mine.

Hello.

She's a doll. Actress.

Uh, no, a painter. She's unbelievable.

And Sid's a collector.

What do you paint, honey?

Oh, they're... They're abstracts,

- most of what I do.
- She's French?

Aw, for cryin' out loud.

Oh, oh. It's Mailer.

Norman Mailer?

Abstracts, huh?

# People tell me it's a sin #

# To know and feel too much within #

# I still believe she was my twin #

# But I lost the ring #

# She was born in the spring #

# But I was born too late #

# Blame it on a simple twist of fate #

Silence, experience shows,

is what terrifies people most.

If he said he'll be here, he'll be here.

It's just such a terribly important booking.

Keenan seldom interviews.

He's really more of
an opinion maker really,

on the telly, so, there's
apt to be no time at all.

Is there a handler?
Someone who looks after him?

I told you, he and John
and Paul and George...

Yes, but did he ever get back?

- Pardon me.
- What?

Do you know if Jude
Quinn is in attendance?

The country-western singer?

No time for autographs, dearie.

- What's that over there?
- Where?

Do the Watusi, John!

Whoa!

Mr. Quinn?

Mr. Quinn, yoo-hoo.

Yes, Mr. Quinn, hello!
We're all just here at the car. No worries.

Good. Sayonara.

Mother. Mother.

Oh, Mr. Quinn! What a privilege

to have in our midst...

...a true visionary, and such a splendid
example to the youth.

And such marvelous songs.
So truly wonderful.

- Howdy.
- Our dear friend,

Carolyn Hester, the folk singer?

She was saying,
just the other day, how liberating

what you're doing really is
for all... Mr. Quinn, hello!

Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry.

Carolyn said that? You tell Carolyn
to come see me anytime,

now that she's, uh, liberated.

Jude, you know, like in the song
"Generation Dungeon,"

when you say "he has the eyes of a camel

- and sleeps on a hook..." That's Victor, right?
- Mr. Quinn!

'Cause I saw a picture of him once
in a magazine, smoking Camels,

which I know
Danny Ronk used to smoke,

but then he switched
to Lucky Strikes in '64.

Mr. Quinn, we really ought to hurry.
Everyone's at the car!

...till early '65.
- Norman, Mona, Sammy...

Sammy? Who's Sammy?

Sonny. Sonny Dover.

The central doyen of the inner circle,

and Jude's oldest ally.

He plays maracas
on "Medicine Sunday."

Judey! Lover boy! Ah!

Two words on Shakespeare,
Mr. Quinn, for our listeners.

Two words?

Raving queen,

and cosmic amphetamine brain.

I dig Shakespeare.

I have a question for Mr. Quinn.

Oh, Keenan, please
forgive us. Mr. Quinn,

allow me to introduce to you
Mr. Keenan Jones,

arts editor and host of the BBC.

I remember you.

Yes, I was going to ask
Mr. Quinn why he insists

on putting us and the rest
of the world on so?

Some might be persuaded
to doubt his sincerity.

Well, who said I was sincere?

Are you saying you're not sincere?

No more than you, you know?

No more sincere than you are.

See, you just want me to say
what you want me to say.

You might think

nothing can reach
those tens of thousands,

living by the dollar.

But you'd be wrong.

Hey. What are you doin' here?

You alone?

Now, why would that be
any concern of yours?

Look, I'm sorry about what happened.

- Nothing happened.
- Fine. Nothing happened.

Oh, come on.
I was straight with you.

I thought you had no recollection.

Look, I can't recall
San Francisco at all.

And I can't really
remember El Paso,

but you shouldn't take
it all so personal.

I don't, believe me.

My current situation far precedes
anything from the past.

But you never know how
the past will turn out.

Sorry.

But your kisses are nothing like his.

I bet.

- Anyone I know?
- Good one.

No, your lucky tongue will not decay me.

Fine, you take your glands,
and your medallions,

and make love for once, freely.

So that's what you think
you have over everyone.

Freedom.

I just got to clean up a little bit.

And I'll be fine.

Here's a tip: Use your fists.

Very funny, Coco.

Hey, Coco!

Coco!

You look and sound very tired, very ill.

Is this your normal state?

I take that as an insult.

Do you suffer from sore eyes,
groovy foreheads, and curly hair?

Take Zoomdom!

Hey. Hey, isn't that
what's-his-name, the poet?

- Ginsberg?
- Allen Ginsberg?

Oh, my God! It is!

Wait a minute.

Hey! Allen thought
that was you in there!

I don't think you two have met.

- Hi.
- Hey.

Allen, tell him what you said to that reporter,

the one that asked
if you thought that Jude had sold out.

What, they're asking you?

I said I didn't know.
Perhaps you sold out to God.

What's that even mean?

Well, if your mission
was to see whether

you could do great art on a juke box,

well, you know, then we all benefited.

Profited, you said, by his coercion.

That was it. So. What now?

Now? What's left?

Oh, my salvation?

Well, see what we could do.

Oh, he'll give it to you!

That was Allen Ginsberg, man!

See ya later, Allen Ginsberg.

Would you say, then,

that the collective struggles

of the color discrimination
or the war have failed,

or as I believe you inferred earlier,

do you think it's the process
itself that's at fault?

Who cares what I think?
I'm not the president.

I'm not some shepherd.
I'm just a storyteller, man.

- It's all I am.
- Well, certainly.

But as someone
who once cared deeply,

as a storyteller, as...

for social justice, equality...
certainly you still care as a human being.

Well, why? Why?

I mean, what do you care?

If I care, or I don't care, what's it to you?

All right, what if I said
I never cared about, you know, folk music?

About, you know, protest songs?

It was all about jumping into a scene.

You know, I was never
gonna stay there. I mean, I just...

I knew I could do it
better than anybody else.

Well, I don't believe you.

No, I mean, you know,
what matters to me...

you know, it matters
what's happening now.

Does it matter to you when
songs you're writing now

are being used as recruitment tools

for militant street gangs,
like the all-Negro faction in the United States?

Oh, yeah.

A group that promotes precisely
the kind of violence

your earlier songs oppose?

If you're asking me, man, am I a member
of the Black Panther Party,

the answer's no.

Man, I can't really tell you how I care.

Well, I presume at the very least

that you care something
about what you sing every night.

What are you...
How can I answer that,

if you got the nerve to ask me?

I mean, you've got a lot of nerve,
asking me a question like that.

- Do you ask the Beatles that?
- Do I...

- Or Mr. Eve of Destruction?
- Would you ask Barry McGuire that?

I have to ask, because you have the nerve
to question whether I care.

I'm not questioning you because I don't
expect any answers from you.

Maybe Victor Mature.
He looks like Victor Mature.

More like Elsa Lanchester,
man, with a North Mexican kind of thing.

That's very protest-y, man.
You know, it's very very protest-y.

You know, I am convinced of one thing.
You either do care about nothing at all,

or tremendously much
that people think so.

And you ask for my time?

Mr. Quinn, we really do need you in...

Listen, I know more about you, right,
than you will ever know about me.

You think I give a crumpet
what you write in your lousy paper?

Now, I don't need to look to someone else,
man, to tell me I'm good.

Slaughter me, for all I care.

I refuse to be hurt.

Mr. Quinn, we really
do need you in the car.

Hey, man.

You refuse feeling deeply about anything.

It's clear to anyone
how entirely self-conscious you are,

in everything you do.

- That's enough!
- Feeling deeply?

That's what this is about?

What precisely, please do tell,
am I supposed to be feeling, huh?

I'm simply referring
to standard emotions:

Pain, remorse, love.

Yeah, I have none of those feelings.

# You walk into the room #

# With a pencil in your hand #

# You see somebody naked
and you say #

# "Who is that man?" #

# You try so hard #

# But you don't understand #

# Just what you will say
when you get home #

# But there's something
happening here #

# And you don't know what it is #

# Do you, Mr. Jones? #

# So you hand in your ticket #

# And you go watch the geek #

# Who immediately walks up to you #

# When he hears you speak #

# And he says #

# "Well, how does it feel, my friend #

# To be such a freak?" #

# You say, "Impossiblel" #

# As he hands you a bone #

# And you're positive that
something's happening here #

# But you don't know what it is #

# Do you #

# Mr. Jones? #

# You have so many contacts #

# Out there among the lumberjacks #

# To get you the facts
when someone attacks #

# Your imagination #

# No one has any respect #

# Anyway, they always expect #

# You'll just give a check #

# To tax-deductible
charity organizations #

# Well #

# You been with the professors #

# And they all like your looks #

# And with great lawyers you have #

# Discussed lepers and crooks #

# You've been through all of #

# F. Scott Fitzgerald's books #

# You're very well read,
yeah, it's well known #

# Because something
is still happening here #

# You don't know what it is #

# Do you #

# Mr. Jones? #

# Well, the sword swallower #

# He comes up to you
and then he kneels #

# He crosses himself #

# And then he clicks his high heels #

# Without further notice #

# He tells you how it feels #

# Then he says,
"Here's your mouth back #

# Thanks for the loan" #

Stop. Stop the song.

# And you kno... #

Well, I missed it. I missed it again.

I missed it.

Bobby, now you ain't hearin' me, man.

No, we are the geeks. You dig?

But then why is that cool?

No, man, we are the ones
being paraded around

like some sort of circus freaks.

"Come on up and see Harlem,
Mr. Jones,

but make sure your window's
rolled up tight."

This song is hell, man.
You've got to understand,

this song is saying
a hell of a lot about society.

All power to all people,
man, that's what it's saying.

- I missed it again.
- Bobby.

Aw, Bobby nothing.
Just play it again, Huey.

Let's play it one more time.

# Because something
is happenin' here #

# And you don't know what it is #

# Do you #

# Mr. Jones? #

You know, this is music.

You know, what you're hearing
is not English music, all right?

You've never really heard
American music before.

And what you hear, obviously, right now,
doesn't have a name.

It's words, all right? And sounds.

If it's something
you disagree with, that's great.

Judas!

I don't believe you.

Judas!

Come up here and say that.

You're liars, all of you.

I accept chaos.

I'm not sure whether it accepts me.

We hadn't spoken in a long while.

I think he was involved
with someone, actually...

He said something to me on the phone

about angels hanging off of buildings,

which was frightening.

I thought he was hallucinating.

That was the last I heard.

It was like what people say
about Billy the Kid...

that he really just dodged
a bullet and went into hiding.

And Jack, he always
loved Billy the Kid.

Whoo!

Henry.

What the hell's wrong with you?

Paper said Pat Garrett tracked me down.

Stopped me dead.

That outlaws always die.

Only a fool would believe
what they read in the papers.

Come on.

Here, I'm invisible.

Come on, now.

Even to myself.

Henry! Calm yourself down.

Gettin' everybody zigaboo here.

Henry. Henry! Henry!

Come on back here! Henry!

You get back here!

And here, by the road
where nobody goes,

where it causes no worry,

where the show must go on,

is where I'll die.

Henry! Come back here!

Henry! Come back here!

# There must be some kind
of way out of here #

# Said the joker to the thief #

# There's too much confusion #

# I can't get no relief #

# Two riders are approaching #

# And the wind began to howl #

Henry! Henry!

God damn it, get back here!

Hey! Come back, Henry!

Come on, now.

How long had it been?

I couldn't even say.

The day I arrived looks a lot like today.

Least, that's how it seemed at the time.

Homer, is that you?

Mr. B.

What's the trouble, there?

A useless bag of thumbs what I am.

There you go.

Sellin' off whatnot.

Mm-hmm.

Well, ain't seen no
yellow dog runnin' loose

by any chance, have you?

Old Henry tore off on me.

- What, she get spooked?
- Seemed to.

Why? Critters know what's goin' on.

- What do they know?
- Well, for one, they know

Shadow Valley's gettin'
blown to kingdom come.

What, that old highway plan?
No, never had a chance.

You mean, you really ain't heard?

Heard what?

Mr. B, that plan's official.
It's gone through.

Last Tuesday, they all come.
Old Man Garrett and them bunch?

Wavin' all sorts of papers?

- I never seen such a stupor.
- What are you talkin' about?

- Wh-What's official?
- Six-laner headed

straight through
the heart of Shadow Valley.

Commissioner Garrett done
give us 30 days come November.

Why haven't I heard
nothing about this?

Mr. B, you don't get out much.

Don't sound credible to me, Homer.

What have people been saying?
They been doin' anything?

Well, first Charley Harper,
the zookeeper?

Shot hisself in the face in front of them

three maiden sisters
and two bachelor brothers.

Them all went insane on account.

Been five hangings, six Phenobarbitals,

and, well...

you familiar with young Clarice Henry?

Mrs. Henry, the Captain's girl?

Of course I am.

Well, what?

The Captain found her.

Throat cut.
By her own hand, they say.

Well, where you fixin' to?

Well, if it's true,

gonna pay my respects
to Captain and Mrs. Henry.

This whole thing's sounds
fishy to me. You comin'?

Oh, no. No, not today.

- Shameful day.
- Suit yourself.

Anyway, Charley gone,
and all of his brothers,

who's mindin' the zoo?

Homer?

1968.

America watched its war plan collapse,

its cities burn, its youth erupt,

its president crumble,
its greatest leaders fall slain.

And there we were.

All alone with Richard Nixon.

No. No. Not at all.

Come on, face it. Face it, it's over.

All these groups
promoting the movement

are so full of their own
president, vice president,

- and secretary bullshit.
- Not at all.

They just think
it's all about them, man.

All these right-wing corporate hawks

plotting to invade the world,
and drug us to death

with happy pills and the Bible.

- It ain't gonna happen.
- I never said that.

What are you talking about?
You say it all the time.

I don't know. I think we all agree

that the world is
a terribly fucked-up place,

but I happen to feel that
there's something to be done

to change the situation, and you...

don't really sound like you...

He doesn't. Well...

Well, you want to know
why you think that?

That, uh, something can
be done to change things?

Why?

- Because you're a chick.
- Oh, Jesus, Robbie.

What's that supposed to mean?

Oh, forget it.

Son of a bitch.

So you're basically a chauvinist.

Why? Because I think guys
and chicks are different?

Come on, that's all I'm saying.

And they are.

They each have access
to different kinds of pain,

which is pretty much
why chicks can never be poets.

- Jesus!
- What?

Robbie, please,
you're not serious.

That's the most
preposterous thing I've ever heard.

Emily Dickinson.

No, that's not the same.

As what?

Whitman, Rimbaud, Shakespeare.

Grace is...
she's really big into Women's Lib.

Guys and chicks
are different, I'm sorry.

I cannot believe you're actually
saying these things.

I cannot believe you actually think
that women are incapable of...

Okay, okay, okay.

Let's try something, huh?

You write down the nastiest thing
you can think of,

and I'll write down the nastiest thing
I can think of, and...

- What?
- We'll compare.

- But what does that prove?
- Just do it.

- No.
- Claire, sit down.

No!

- No, no, no! I want to know...
- Come on, honey.

Play the game!

I want to know what this thing is
that women cannot experience or...

Cut the fucking snaps!

Or write about or talk about
or what, put on paper?

What is this place?

Do you own this place?

Did you invent it?

Uh, no, honey, I don't.

Claire, come on,
you're missing the point completely.

I-I worship women.

Everybody should have one.

- Yeah, fine.
- Claire!

Claire, come on. I was kidding.

Hey, God's a woman.

Claire.

Hey!

Fuck you, man!

What are you, fucking deaf?

I told you to stop fucking doing that.

Fuck.

What?

What?

Nothing.

You've changed.

Yeah. Fuck right, I've changed.

All of this... these new clothes,

new car, these shades.

You'd never wear shit like that before.

Man, you tell me I've changed

as if that's all there is to say,
you know,

in this completely different voice

than the one you had
ten minutes ago.

You know, kids shooting craps
in an L.A. Garage pot,

and you say nothing's perfect.

I say it again: There are no politics.

Right.

Well, then, what the fuck is there?

Huh?

Sign language.

No town ever loved Halloween

like the town of Riddle.

So who a fellow really was never really
mattered.

Not with what pretending had to offer.

It was my kind of town.

Hey, guys!
You should've seen me.

I come in like a Ferris wheel,
and, boys, I sure was slick.

What the heck
are you supposed to be?

Well, if you don't know,
I'm not gonna tell you.

# Your back is straight,
your hair is smooth #

# On the pillow where you lie #

# But I don't sense affection #

# No gratitude or love #

# Your loyalty is not to me #

# But to the stars above #

# One more cup of coffee 'fore I go #

# One more cup of coffee 'fore I go #

# To the valley below #

Chester?

- Billy.
- Mr. McCarty.

Ma'am.

So what's with all this
doomsday hocus-pocus going on?

# One more cup of coffee for the road #

# One more cup of coffee 'fore I go #

You two taking a trip?

# To the valley below #

Seven simple rules for life in hiding.

One...

never trust a cop in a raincoat.

Two...

beware of enthusiasm and of love.

Each is temporary and quick to sway.

Three...

when asked if you care
about the world's problems,

look deep into the eyes of he who asks.

He will not ask you again.

Pack up the meat, sweet.

It's king for king
and queen for queen.

Afternoon, Mr. McCarty.

George, Delia.

Number four and five...

- Good afternoon, Billy.
- Howdy, Mr. B.

- Good morning.
...never give your real name.

Afternoon,
Mr. Gladstone, sir.

Hey. Hey, hey.

What are you doing?
What are you doing?

Hey!

Hey, you all right, son?

Please, dear man,
you gotta get me outta here.

This here's chicken town.

And if ever told to look at yourself...

never look.

His singing voice, asthmatic and whiny,

makes his success
at first seem inconceivable,

but for so many
of his ardent admirers,

- Quinn's simple raggedness...
- Here we go.

... was always the sound of his truth.
Could you pass me that?

In it, they could conjure
all the hard knocks

his rough and tumble story implies,

all the honest struggles

their far more conventional backgrounds
deny them.

Jesus.

- On the other hand...
- This guy's an asshole.

If Quinn's recent foray
into electronic music

has raised doubts concerning
his sincerity in the past,

the startling truth behind
his famously clouded origins

is sure to close the book
once and for all

on his future.

Six...

never say or do anything

the person standing in front of you
cannot understand.

For, despite his unwashed, freewheelin'
credentials,

and contrary to anything he's ever stated,

the real Jude Quinn...

suburban, middle class, educated...

is as conventional as they come.

The eldest son
of a Brookline, Massachusetts,

department store owner,
the real name of America's

backwoods vagabond
turned rock-and-roll martyr

is Aaron Jacob Edelstein.

And seven...

never create anything.

It will be misinterpreted.

It will chain you and follow you

for the rest of your life.

And it will never change.

# Hollis Brown #

# He lived on the outside of town #

# Hollis Brown #

# He lived on the outside of town #

Behold the hole of the tarantula.

Revenge sits black on your back.

And wherever you bite,
black scabs grow.

# He lived with his wife
and five children #

# And his cabin #

# Broken #

# Down #

# Down #

# Down #

# Down #

# Down #

For that man
be delivered from revenge,

that for me is the highest hope.

A rainbow after a storm.

Girls, Molly...

I want you to take everything
up to your room, okay?

I'll be up in two minutes for your baths.

Yes?

You sound out of breath.

Oh, so you're back?

Today.

How are the girls?

They're great.

Busy. Enjoying school.

That's great.

And you?

Fine. We're all fine.

So, um, which night is boat night?

Saturday?

- Hello?
- Uh, yeah.

Saturday, that's, um...

day after tomorrow.

Yep.

That's fine.

Mommy, who are you talking to?

All right, so what time?

Uh, 11:00?

Fine.

Mommy, who are you talking to?

Molly, what did I tell you about pickup?

- Upstairs...
- Or I can get 'em earlier, just...

No, no, no, it's fine, fine.

But please bring those boxes, okay?

- I've asked you, like...
- Wait, what boxes?

The photos. My photos?

- I've asked you, like...
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Fine. Fine, fine.

Molly!

Okay, I gotta go.

Uh, welcome back.

Thanks...

That's right, my friends.

I am holding the only true account,

so buy it here, read it there.

Buy it here, read it there.

Buy it here, read it there.

An epic tale of blunder and despair,

a withering saga
of mystery unveiled,

a swan song to America
before Chaplin set sail

or the children of dawn in crazy duress

ever watched the red sun
without bothering to dress.

Buy it here, read it there!

An epic tale of blunder and despair,

a withering saga of mystery unveiled,

a swan song to America
before Chaplin set sail

and the children of dawn
in crazy duress...

Thief! Somebody stop that man!

Stop!

No!

# I'm goin' down #

# To Rose Marie #

# She never does me wrong #

# She puts it to me #

# Plain as day #

# And gives it to me for a song #

# It's a wicked lie #

# But what the hell #

# Don't everybody got to eat? #

# And I'm just the same #

# As anyone else #

# When it comes to scratchin' #

# For my meat #

# Goin' to Acapulco #

# Goin' on the run #

# Goin' down #

# To see that girl #

# Gonna have some fun #

# It's not a bad way to make a livin' #

# And I ain't complainin' none #

# Well, I can blow my plum #

# And drink my rum #

# And then go on home #

# And have my fun #

# Goin' to Acapulco #

# Goin' on the run #

# Goin' down to see that girl #

# Gonna have some fun #

# Yeah #

# Gonna have some fun #

Trouble was, I'd grown
partial to the place...

that sudden smell of fear

and the thrill of waiting up

for the end of the world.

# I'm not your stepping stone #

# You're trying to make
your mark in society #

# You're losin' all the friends... #

Congratulations, you're a millionaire.

- Huh?
- They agreed to everything.

- Full guarantees.
- How many dates?

There's 55 additional, I think it was.

Plus the 30?

Well, 29, minus tonight is 28.

That's 83 total.

83 shows?

Well, it's not really 83 shows...

Man, I can't do 83 more shows.

It's going to fucking kill me
doing 83 more shows.

Who the fuck said I ever
wanted to be a millionaire?

Jude!

Hey.

Far out show.

Thanks, man.

Grab a throne.

Really?

Far out.

You know Norman, my executioner.

Norman, this is Brian Jones
from that groovy covers band.

# Now you're walkin' round
like you're front page news #

# You've been awful careful
'bout the friends you choose #

# But you won't find my name
in your book of Who's Who #

# I said I'm not your stepping stone #

Find the drinks.

Look at all these medicines.

Hey, man, what... what are those?

Mandies.

They make you sleep.

Sleep! I ain't sleepin'.

Sleep's for dreamers.

I haven't slept in 30 days, man.

Takes a lot of medicine
to keep up this pace.

Coco!

Norman, darling.

I know I'm a wretch for being late.

And it was entirely my fault.

Hey, what's happening?

I feel like complete shit
is what's happening.

Well, you don't look it.

Aw, true love...

here in the land
of Charles Atlas and the bomb.

Oh, fuck off.

She's been kinda... uptight lately.

Oh, she has.

Oh, I see.

Yes, in fact, if you'd like to know,
it's been complete shit.

- Angelina's been missing for four days.
- Her cat.

Judey knows who Angelina is,
don't you, Judey?

If you're asking if I remember
your little pussy, of course I do.

Charming.

She has the sweetest little pussy.

If you don't count the teeth.

Okay, man.

Oh, but properly protected.

Meow!

- Baby!
- Don't call me that!

Slow down, slow down, slow down.

I tell you, love and sex are two things

that really hang people up.

Why that is...

I'Il... I'll never fully understand.

Death to all those
who would whimper and cry.

Did she... Do you think she...

Don't worry, man.

She'll be back.

Chick's gotta shit on something.

What do you mean?

What do I mean?

Who are you?

I mean...

who gave you permission
to even be here?

You're... You're like a shadow, man.

Maybe you were hip once,

but that trick got old, man,

a long time ago.

Now, every time
you open your mouth,

it's like, how long is this gonna take?

It's not like anyone's
gonna tell you to your face.

No one wants to deal,
you know, with, like,

a pathetic situation.

Guess I'm the asshole, right?

Because I'm the only one
with any balls.

Oh, man, it's sad.

You used to be funny.

And you honestly think
that chick sees you

as anything but a... as a tool?

Oh, no, you're kidding me.

I can't even watch this.

The sky isn't yellow.

It's chicken.

You know, people said
you could be a real cocksucker.

Well, it's not what goes
into a man's mouth, babe,

that defiles it.

No, it's what comes out.

Good and evil were invented
by people trapped in scenes.

Uh!

Oh, damn it.

Come on, let's get him outta here.

Get that door!

# I'm beginning to hear voices #

# And there's no one around #

# Now I'm all used up #

# And the fields have turned brown #

# 20 miles out of town #

# Cold irons bound #

Son, you better get down
off of that thing.

You're liable to get yourself killed!

How does it feel?

# I got to know, Lord #

# When to pull back on the reins #

# Death can be the result of the most
underrated things #

Man that is born of woman
is of few days...

and full of trouble.

Why don't you do your early stuff?

# Satan whispers to ya #

# Well, I don't wanna bore ya #

# But when you get tired
of that Miss So-and-So #

# I got another woman for ya #

Why, when nations rage

and kingdoms totter,

when disaster follows hard upon disaster

and terror hangs on every side...

Why hast Thou made me Thy mark?

# Trouble in mind, Lord #

# Trouble in mind #

# Lord, take away this trouble in mind #

It's hard not to go to hell.

There's so many distractions,
so many influences.

Start walking right,
and pretty soon,

there's someone
gonna drag you down.

Sure as we're living, sure as we're born,

look up, look up.

Gabriel blows his horn.

He was having a lot of worries,

telling me things.

I just asked him one day,
I said, "Have you ever prayed?"

And he said, "Pray?"

You know, like that.

And he started asking
a lot of questions.

I didn't know him then,

but I sure knew who he was.

People worshipped him.

Maybe only Jesus
could've unburdened

someone like that
from such omnipotence.

In spring of 1974,

Jack Rollins followed
girlfriend Angela Reeves

to Stockton, California,

and enrolled in a course in Bible study

here at the California
Gateway Brotherhood Church,

a Pentecostal assembly
just outside Stockton.

Six months later,

Rollins accepted Jesus into his heart.

Today, the one-time '60s folk hero

is a fully ordained member
of the Gateway Ministry

and an active figure in the state's
evangelical community.

And yet, for the past two decades,

Father John has remained
silent about his past.

I asked him why.

Old things are passed away.

All things are made anew.

It doesn't matter what I did before.

I've never lied to you.

Never told you who to vote for
or to follow anybody,

back then when
I was selling my records.

What I didn't know
is that it didn't matter

what kind of music you were playing.

Folk, pop, rock 'n roll...

we're all rolled up
in the devil's pocket.

Now, I'm not talking about a devil
with the pitchfork and horns.

I'm talking about a spiritual devil
in the midnight hour.

He's gotta be overcome.

And we here in America,
we shall overcome.

What greater honor for a nation

than to speak for God?

For some say that the war
to end all wars

has already begun
right now in the Middle East,

where it is prophesized
that the weak will fall.

And that Jesus will set up
His kingdom in Jerusalem.

So why should we worry
when we're already free,

right here, right now?

And why are you free?

You're free because Jesus
paid for you to be.

That's why you're free.

You're free to seek
the higher calling of the Lord.

Now pick up your bed and walk.

# I'm pressin' on #

# I keep pressin' on #

# Yes, I'm pressin' on #

# To the higher calling of my Lord #

# Pressin' on #

# I keep pressin' on #

# I'm pressin' on #

# To the higher calling of my Lord #

# Shake the dust off your feet #

# Don't look back #

# Nothing can hold you down #

- # There's nothing you lack #
- # Nothin' that you lack #

# Temptation, not an easy thing #

# Given the devil's reign #

# 'Cause he sinned I got no choice #

# It runs in my veins #

# I'm pressin' on #

# Goin', and goin', and goin' and goin' #

# Pressin' on #

# Can't hold me back #

# I'm pressin' on #

# To the higher calling of my Lord #

- # Pressin' on #
- # Pressin on #

# Hey #

# On and on and on #

- # Pressin' on #
- # Pressin' on #

# Yeah, I'm pressing on #

Fuck!

# To the higher calling of my Lord #

# Ooh, my Lord, yeah #

# Pressin' on #

# On and on and on and on #

# Pressin' on #

# Gotta, gotta keep pressin' on #

# To the higher calling of my Lord #

# Hey, gonna keep... #

"Because relations are always ambiguous

"and I continually fail to communicate

"because I continue
to blame myself

"even when I'm not to blame.

"Because each failing
has made me more remote

"from myself,

"from my babies, and from you...

"For all these reasons

"and many more still unknown...

"I must listen.

"I must look around more than ever.

I must leave."

All right.

Thank you.

Not with the girls.

- Yes, Robbie.
- No.

Robbie!

You're not taking my kids!

What are you going to do?

What would you do?

Because I would, you know?

Perhaps I even would.

If you actually could, who knows?

But I'm not going to take your children
away from you, Robbie,

so you don't have to...
to try and threaten me.

# Someone's got it in for me #

# They're planting
stories in the press #

# Whoever it is,
I wish they'd cut it out #

# But when they will, I can only guess #

# They say I shot
a man named Gray #

# And took his wife to Italy #

# She inherited a million bucks #

# And when she died,
it came to me #

# I can't help it if I'm lucky #

# People see me all the time #

# And they just can't
remember how to act #

# Their minds are filled with big ideas #

# Images #

# And distorted facts #

# Even you, yesterday #

# You had to ask me where it was at #

# I couldn't believe
after all these years #

# You didn't know me
any better than that #

# Sweet lady #

# Idiot wind #

# Blowing every time
you move your mouth #

# Going down the back roads,
headin' south #

# Idiot wind #

# Blowing every time
you move your teeth #

# You're an idiot, babe #

# It's a wonder that you
still know how to breathe #

# It was gravity which pulled us in #

# And destiny
which broke us apart #

# You tamed the lion in my cage #

# But it just wasn't enough
to change my heart #

# Now everything's a little upside-down #

# As a matter of fact,
the wheels have stopped #

# What's good is bad,
what's bad is good #

# You find out
when you reach the top #

# You're on the bottom #

Some people have a deep...

...and try and shake this flytrap.

But they took away
the meaning, Alice,

and I was a pawn in their game.

I'm telling you, if I don't
bust out of here quick,

try and dope things out...

so long, Alice.

Jack, where are you gonna go?

First place that
doesn't know my name.

So, good people of Riddle,

we come here with no intent to disrupt,

but only to commend you
for your patient courage

in this time of change.

And in addition,
we are pleased to announce

the evacuation fund has been established
by the state of Missouri

as I pledged to you it would be.

Exactly what does that do
for the common folk like myself?

Dollar compensation

will be made available to, uh, uh...

Eligible evacuees.

So what you want to do
is throw some pennies

after you done took our lives!

I assure you, boy,

nobody here in the business
of taking lives.

Might wanna explain that
to Ms. Henry up there.

Yeah, or Ms. Montgomery.

Or how about Old Man Sykes?

Yeah, well, the way I see it,

you can either go through Riddle,
or you can go around them,

so why are you going
through our town?

Yeah, that's right,
that's right, he said it.

Who is that talking?

You there.

- What's your name?
- My name?

- Mm.
- William.

William, did you say?
Show your face.

Yes, sir.

I had... I had a friend...

However, thing is, sir, truly,

you got us hanging by a thread here.

Who are you? I know you.

I don't reckon so.

You ever live in Dallas County?

- Can't say I have.
- New Mexico?

No!

You were talented.
Boy, you could shoot.

You could sing a ditty
like nobody I ever seen.

You got... You got any musical strain?

I never had the knack.

What we're saying
is that you and your boys,

you go do as you please,

just so long as you stay clear
of Riddle County.

Do you think you're speaking
for the people, sir?

You are just stirring up lies
and getting folks agitated.

Now, we have methods

for dealing with
scoundrels like yourself.

Boys, bring him in!

Hey, hey, what do you
think you're doing?

Quiet down!

No need to get off to cause
another insurgence...

Take care of my horse!
Take care of my horse!

Takes a thief to catch a thief.

# She cried both day and night #

# I know it because it was there #

# It's a milestone #

# But she's down on her luck #

# And she mainly so lonely #

# But to make him hard to buck #

# I was there #

I know I have a sickness...

festering somewhere.

I don't mean like Woody Guthrie,

wasting away in some hospital.

His vitals are stable.

What he needs is sleep.

I couldn't do that.

Decay like that.

That's nature's will,
and I'm against nature.

I don't dig nature at all.

I don't think he can get back on stage.

He's gotten inside so many psyches,

and death is just such a part
of the American scene right now.

It's the reds that make him mean.

He's already gone.

The only truly natural things are dreams,

which nature cannot
touch with decay.

# When I'm there, she's all right #

# But she's not when I'm gone #

# Heaven knows that the answer #

# She don't call no one #

# She's the way #

# For sailing beautiful #

# She's mine for the one #

# And I lost a heavy tension #

# By temptation as it runs #

# But she don't follow me #

# But I'm not there #

# I'm gone #

# Now I'll cry tonight #

# Like I cried the night before #

# And I'll feast on the highs #

# But I'll dream about the door #

# So long, Jesus, savior #

# Blind faith #

# Is the tale #

# It don't have confirmation #

# She smiles fairly well #

# Now, when I choose to live it #

# I was born to love her #

# But she knows that #

# The kingdom waits #

# So high above her #

# And I run #

# Then I race #

# But it's not too fast to stand #

# But I don't perceive her #

# I'm not there #

Don't worry, Mr. B.

Your secret's safe with me.

God save the secrets.

And you too, Homer.

Come on.

# I don't need anybody now #

# Beside me to tell #

# And it's all revelation #

# I recede #

# Good night #

# She's a long-bodied beauty #

# But she's gone like a smile #

# And she's gone #

# Yeah, she's gone like the rainbow #

# That was shinin' yesterday #

# But now she's old beside me #

# And I'd like to hear... #

Henry!

Henry!

Come on, Henry. Come on, girl.

Come on.

Come on!

Henry!

Come on!

Bye, Henry!

Good-bye, my lady.

# With your mercury mouth #

# In the missionary times #

# And your eyes like smoke #

# And your prayers like rhymes #

# And your silver cross #

# And your voice
like chimes #

Doesn't really matter, you know,

what kind of nasty names
people invent for the music.

But, uh, folk music
is just a word, you know,

that I can't use anymore.

What I'm talking about
is traditional music,

right, which is to say
it's mathematical music,

it's based on hexagons.

But all these songs
about, you know,

roses growing
out of people's brains

and lovers who are
really geese and swans

are turning into angels...

I mean, you know,
they're not going to die.

They're not folk music songs.

They're political songs.

They're already dead.

You'd think that these traditional music people

would... would gather
that mystery, you know,

is a traditional fact, you know,

seeing as they're
all so full of mystery.

And contradictions.

Yeah, contradictions.

And chaos.

Yes, it's chaos, clocks,
and watermelons...

You know, it's... it's everything.

These people actually think
I have some kind of, uh...

fantastic imagination.

It gets very, uh, lonesome.

But traditional music

is just, uh...

It's too unreal to die.

It doesn't need to be protected.

You know, I mean,
in that music is the only

true valid death
you can feel today,

you know, off a record player.

But like everything else in great demand,
people try to own it.

Has to do with, like,
uh, the purity thing.

I think its meaninglessness is holy.

Everybody knows I'm not a folk singer.

People are always talking about freedom.

Freedom to live a certain way

without being kicked around.

Course, the more
you live a certain way,

the less it feels like freedom.

Me? I can change during
the course of a day.

I wake and I'm one person,

and when I go to sleep, I know for certain

I'm somebody else.

I don't know who I am,
most of the time.

It's like you got yesterday,

today, and tomorrow,
all in the same room.

There's no tellin' what can happen.

# Once upon a time,
you dressed so fine #

# Threw the bums a dime
in your prime #

# Didn't you? #

# People call, say beware, doll #

# You're bound to fall
You thought they were all #

# Kiddin' you #

# You used to laugh about #

# Everybody that was hangin' out #

# Now you don't talk so loud #

# Now you don't seem so proud #

# About havin' to be scrounging #

# Your next meal #

# How does it feel? #

# How does it feel #

# To be without a home #

# Like a complete unknown #

# Like a rolling stone? #

# Things are crashing better #

# She's all too tight #

# In my neighborhood #

# She cried both day and night #

# She's a lone-hearted mystic #

# And she can't carry on #

# When I'm there, she's all right #

# Then she's not when I'm gone #

# Heaven knows that the answer #

# She don't call no one #

# She's the way forsaken beauty #

# She's mine for the one #

# And I've asked her hesitating #

# About temptation as it runs #

# She don't follow me #

# I'm leaving #

# I'm gone #

# Now, I'll cry tonight #

# Like I cried the night before #

# And I'll feast on the highway #

# But I'll dream about the door #

# It's alone #

# She's forsaken #

# By her fate #

# Words to tell #

# It don't have approximation #

# She smiles fairly well #

# Her smile is contagious #

# I was born to love her #

# But she knows that the kingdom #

# Waits so high above her #

# And I run #

# But I race #

# But it's not too fast to stand #

# But I've got to be free #

# And I'm not there #

# I'm gone #

# Well, it's too hard to stay here #

# And I don't want to leave #

# It's so hard for so few #

# Sleep, but she's hard #

# Too hard to breathe #

# It's a load #

# It's a crime #

# The way she mauls me around #

# But she don't phone to hate me #

# But it's time to make the clown #

# Yes, I believe that it's rightful #

# I believe it in my mind #

# I been told #

# Like I slept #

# Before I carry on the grind #

# Yes, the soul judge had told her #

# That I should carry on #

# The child's been hurt and alone #

# Then I'm gone #

# Mama, take this badge off of me #

# I can't use it anymore #

# It's gettin' dark #

# Much too dark to see #

# Feel I'm knocking on heaven's door #

# Knock, knock, knocking
on heaven's door #

# Knock, knock, knocking
on heaven's door #

# Knock, knock, knocking
on heaven's door #

# Knock, knock, knocking
on heaven's door #

# Mama, wipe this blood from my face #

# I'm sick and tired of the war #

# Don't know if it's night #

# Or if it's the sun #

# Rising higher #

# Scared I'm knockin'
on heaven's door #

# Ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh #

# Ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh #