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Almost Famous

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All right, you chipmunks.|Ready to sing your song?
- Iíll say we are!|- Let's sing it now.
Okay, Simon?
Okay, Theodore?
Okay, Alvin?
Christmas, Christmas|time is near
Time for toys|and time for cheer
We've been good|but we can't last
Hurry, Christmas|Hurry fast
Want a plane|that loops the loop
Me, I want a hula hoop
We can hardly|stand the wait
Please, Christmas|Donít be late
You wanna be Atticus Finch. Good.
- I like him.|- Why?
- He's honest.|- Yes.
- He stands up for the right thing.|- Yes.
- And he's a good father.|- He is.
- Did it all by himself.|- Did what all by himself?
- Raised his kids.|- He didn't raise them by himself!.
Who was the woman that|came to their house every day?
- Calpurnia.|- Calpurnia. He remembered.
- And what about Boo?|- What about Boo?
Boo Radley is the most interesting|character in To Kill a Mockingbird.
Boo Radley is the most interesting|character in To Kill a Mockingbird.
Mom, tell me more about Livia.
She killed everybody so her son Tiberius|could inherit the throne-- like Nixon.
It's awfully common.
The same stories, the Shakespeare, like|those plays we saw at the Old Globe.
- Anita?|- Hey, Mom.
- Want something to eat?|- No, thanks. I already ate.
- Are you sure? I made soy cutlets.|- I'm fine. I already ate.
Wait.|You've been kissing.
- No, I haven't.|- Yes, you have.
- I can tell.|- You can't tell.
Not only can I tell,|I know who it is. It's Darryl.
What you got|under your coat?
It's un fair that we can't|listen to our music.
It's because it is about drugs|and promiscuous sex.
Simon and Garfunkel is poetry.
It is the poetry|of drugs and promiscuous sex.
Honey, they're on pot.
First, it was butter.|Then it was sugar and white flour.
Bacon, eggs, bologna,|rock 'n' roll, motorcycles.
Then, it was celebrating Christmas|on a day in September...
when you knew it|wouldn't be commercialized.
- What else are you gonna ban?|- You want to rebel against knowledge.
I'm trying to give you the Cliff's Notes|on how to live life in this world.
We're like nobody else I know!
I am a college professor.|Why can't I teach my own kids? Use me.
Darryl says that you|use knowledge to keep me down.
He says I'm a ''yes'' person...
and you are trying to raise us|in a '' no'' environment.
Well, clearly '' no'' is a word|Darryl doesn't hear much.
I can't live here! I hate you!
- Even William hates you.|- I don't hate her.
You do hate her.|You don't even know the truth.
- Don't be a drama queen.|- Feck you!
This is a house of lies!
There it is.
- Your sister used the ''f'' word.|- I think she said ''feck.''
- What's the difference?|- The letter '' u.''
I look so much younger|than everyone else.
Enjoy it while you can.
Mom, it's time.
- Can this wait till we get home?|- Mom, pull over.
Tell him the truth.|Tell him how old he is.
He knows how old he is.
But other kids make fun of him|because of how young he looks.
Nobody includes him. They call him|''The Narc'' behind his back.
- They do?|- What's a narc?
- A narcotics officer.|- Well, what's wrong with that?
Come on, you guys.|It's no big deal.
I'm twelve.|She skipped me a grade.
Big deal.|I'm a year younger.
They're 1 3, I'm 1 2.
Aren't I ?
I also put you in first grade when|you were five, and I never told you.
So I'm how old?
You're 11 .
- Eleven?|- So you skipped fifth grade.
-There's too much padding in the grades.|-Eleven?
This explains... so much.
You've robbed him|of an adolescence.
Adolescence is a marketing tool.
Honey, I know you were|expecting puberty...
but youíre just gonna have to|shine it on for a little while.
Who needs a crowd?
Who put such a high premium|on being typical?
You're unique. Take those extra years|and do what you want.
Go to Europe for a year.|Take a look around.
See what you like.
Follow your dream.
You'll still be|the youngest lawyer in the country.
Your dad was so proud of you.|He knew you were an accelerated child.
What about me?
You are rebellious|and ungrateful of my love.
This song explains why I'm leaving home|to become a stewardess.
We can't talk?|We have to listen to rock music?
I love you.
Let us be lovers
We'll marry our fortunes together
I've got some real-estate|here in my bag
Hey, man, take good care|of her in San Francisco, man.
And walked off
To look for America
One day... you'll be cool.
Look under your bed.|It'll set you free.
Michigan seems|like a dream to me now
Watch the plant.
You're 1 8 and I can't stop you.
I've gone to look for America
She'll be back.
Maybe not soon.
I said, be careful|His bow tie
Is really a camera
Toss me a cigarette
I think there 's one in my raincoat
We smoked the last one an hour ago
So I looked at the scenery
She read her magazine
And the moon rose|over an open field
Here 's a theory|for you to disregard...
Music, you know--|true music--
not just rock 'n' roll--|it chooses you.
It lives in your car, or alone,|listening to your headphones--
you know, with the vast, scenic bridges|and angelic choirs in your brain.
It's a place apart...
from the vast, benign...
lap of America.
It's quite an honor to have|the world's greatest rock critic...
and editor of Creem magazine...
back home in San Diego|for a few days.
- Lester Bangs.|- The Doors? Jim Morrison?
He's a drunken buffoon|posing as a poet.
- I like the Doors.|- Give me the Guess Who.
They got the courage to be drunken|buffoons. Which makes them poetic!
Give me some|''White Light/White Heat.''
Iggy Pop!
Put this on.|This isn't on your play list either.
- Isn't it a bit early for that?|- Not for me.
That was Lester Bangs, this is|Alice Wisdom, and here is Iggy Pop.
So youíre the kid who's sent me those|articles from the school newspaper.
Yeah. Yeah.
I've been doing some stuff for|a local underground paper also.
- What are you, the star of your school?|- They hate me.
You'll meet them all again|on their long journey to the middle.
Your writing is damn good. It's just|a shame you missed out on rock 'n' roll.
- It's over.|- Over?
It's over. You got here|just in time for the death rattle.
Last gasp.|Last grope.
- At least I'm here for that.|- What do you type on?
Smith-Corona Galaxies Deluxe.
- And you like Lou Reed?|- The early stuff.
I n his new stuff,|he's trying to be Bowie.
He should just be himself.
- You take drugs?|- No.
Smart kid.
I used to do speed.
You know, and sometimes|a little cough syrup?
I'd stay up all night,|just writing and writing.
I mean,|like 25 pages of dribble--
You know, about The Faces,|or Coltrane.
You know, just to fucking write.
All right.|It's been nice to meet ya.
Keep sending me your stuff.
I can't stand here all day|talking to my many fans.
I understand.
You know, because once you go to L.A.,|you're gonna have friends like crazy.
But they're gonna be fake friends.|They're gonna try to corrupt you.
You got an honest face,|and they're gonna tell you everything.
But you cannot make friends|with the rock stars.
- Is it okay if I--|- If youíre gonna be a true journalist--
you know, a rock journalist--
First, you never get paid much.
But you will get free records|from the record company.
Fucking nothing about you|that is controversial, man.
God, it's gonna get ugly, man.|They're gonna buy you drinks.
You're gonna meet girls, they're gonna|fly you places for free, offer drugs.
I know it sounds great,|but these people are not your friends.
These are people who want you|to write sanctimonious stories...
about the genius of rock stars.
And they will ruin rock 'n' roll,|and strangle...
everything we love|about it, right?
And then it just becomes|an industry of cool.
I'm telling you, you're coming along at|a very dangerous time for rock 'n' roll.
That's why I think you should turn,|go back, and be a lawyer or something.
But I can tell from your face|that you won't.
I can give you 35 bucks.
- Give me 1 ,000 words on Black Sabbath.|- An assignment?
You have to make your reputation|on being honest...
you know, unmerciful.
If you get into a jam,|you can call me.
I stay up late.
Look at this.
Look at this.
An entire generation of Cinderellas,|and there's no slipper coming.
You want to get high?|Looking to get high?
All I have to do is listen.
- That's what Lester Bangs said.|- As long as I know this is a hobby.
I'll pick you up right here|at 11:00 sharp.
If you get lost,|use the family whistle.
- Good luck.|- Thanks.
Don't take drugs!
Yes, Mother!
Hi. I'm William Miller.
I'm here from Creem magazine|to interview Black Sabbath.
Not on the list.
- Sir, I'm a journalist. Here's a copy--|- You're not on the list.
Go to the top of the ramp|with the other girls.
We won't bite.
What happens after|I go to the top of the ramp?
Who are you with?
Me? I'm with myself.
No. Who are you with?|What band?
Oh. I'm here to interview Black Sabbath.|I'm a journalist.
I'm not-- Not a--|You know.
You're not a what?
You're not a what?
I'm not a... groupie.
We are not groupies.
This is Penny Lane, man.|Show some respect.
Groupies sleep with rock stars 'cause|they wanna be near someone famous.
We're here because of the music.|We are Band Aids.
-She used to run a school for Band Aids.|-We don't have intercourse with them.
We inspire the music.|We're here because of the music.
She was the one|who changed everything.
She was the one who said,|'' No more sex.
No more exploiting|our bodies and our hearts.''
- Right.|-just blowjobs, that's it.
- It's all happening!|- It's all happening!
Here comes Sabbath!|Ozzy Osbourne!
It's me, Polexia!
I think I saw Sapphire in there.
Does anybody remember laughter?
- Come on!|- Passes, girls!
Come and get 'em!
- No, not this one.|- Who brought Opie?
- He's with us.|- Top of the ramp!
- Don't go anywhere, Opie.|- I'll take care of this.
If I can.
Come on, boys.|Pick it up, will ya?
This is outrageous.|We're an hour and a half late!
I'm coming, I'm coming.
Freddy! Open up!|It's Stillwater! We're on the show!
I'm a journalist.|I write for Creem magazine.
Oh, the Enemy.|A rock writer.
Right. I'd like to interview you|or somebody from your band.
Look. I'm sorry,|but could you please fuck off?
We play for the fans,|not the critics.
Russell, Jeff...
Ed, Larry.
I really love your band.
I think the song '' Fever Dog''|is a big step forward for you.
And you guys producing it yourselves|instead of Glyn Johns...
that was the right thing to do.
And Russell, Russell,|the guitar sound...
is incendiary.
Way to go.
Hey, man.|Don't stop there.
- I'm incendiary too, man.|- I didn't mean ''fuck off. ''
- How are you doing?|- He's with us. This way, bro.
- He's not on your list!|- Here's a list of people who do belong.
Take a straight and stronger course|to the corner of your life
Hey, Red Dog!
Hey-hey!|Good to see you, man.
Some people have a hard time|explaining rock 'n 'roll.
I don't think anyone can|really explain rock 'n' roll.
Maybe Pete Townshend,|but that's okay.
Rock 'n' roll is a lifestyle|and a way of thinking...
and it's not about money|and popularity.
Although some money would be nice.
But it's a voice that says,|'' Here I am...
and fuck you|if you can't understand me.''
And one of these people|is gonna save the world.
And that means that rock 'n' roll|can save the world...
all of us together.
And the chicks are great. But what|it all comes down to is that thing.
The indefinable thing when people|catch something from your music.
What I'm talking about is--|Wait, what am I talking about?
- The buzz.|- The buzz.
And the chicks, the whatever...
is an offs hoot of the buzz.
Like you saying|you liked '' Fever Dog.''
That is the fucking buzz!
Found you a pass.
Thanks. I got in with Stillwater.
Oh. Stillwater.
Now you're mysterious.
How old are you?
- Eighteen.|- Me too.
How old are we really?
- Seventeen.|- Me too.
Actually, I'm 1 6.
Me too. Isn't it funny?
- The truth just sounds different.|- I'm 1 5.
What's your real name?
I'll never tell.
The Enemy!
Russell! Hey.
This is Penny Lane.
Penny Lane, Russell Hammond.
- '' Penny Lane,'' like the song.|- Have we met?
Can we bring the lights down?
Hey, get the Enemy in here.
Get on my back|for piggyback ride
- San Diego!|- You ready, baby?
Hell, yeah!
Good evening, San Diego!
Stand right over there.
Would you please welcome...
from Troy, Michigan--
Fever dog
Scratching at my back door
I hear you howl
But I don't listen no more
Got a feeling I could taste|every hair of the fever
Come around again|We'll have to feed it then
Another fever dog
You wanna come to L.A.?
We'll be at|the Riot House all week.
- Riot House?|- Yeah.
The Continental Hyatt House.|It's on Sunset Strip.
Oh, yeah, right.|Sunset Strip.
Well, tell your friend...
Miss Penny Lane, to call me.
Tell her it ain't|California without her.
We want her around,|like last summer.
Say it just like that.
- Got it.|- I'm under '' Harry Houdini.''
I get it.
- Come on, let's blow this burg!|- Hey, Enemy!
Come up to L.A.,|we'll talk some more.
- Bye, Opie.|- See you later, Jeff, Polexia, Dick.
Scully, Ed. See ya, Mick, Greg.|Later, guys.
Bye, Opie.
Hey, Red Dog.|I'll see ya later, man.
''The Wheel.''|'' Frosty.''
Ainsworth,|I'll see you around, man.
- Penny!|- Hey, be cool.
Penny, you just missed Russell.
He said he's at the Riot House all week,|and for you to call him.
He's under the name|Harry Houdini.
- You know about the Riot House, right?|- I think I've heard of it.
He had a message. He said, ''Tell her|it's not California without you.
We want you around,|like last summer.''
No! He said, ''Tell her it ain't|California without you, we want--''
- I get the gist.|- Right.
So, how well do you guys|know each other?
Call me if you need a rescue.|We live in the same city.
I think I live|in a different world.
Speaking of the world...
I've made a decision.
I'm gonna live in Morocco|for one year.
I need a new crowd.
Do you wanna come?
- You sure?|- Ask me again.
Do you wanna come?
- You've gotta call me.|- Okay.
It's all happening.
It's all happening.|It's all happening.
- You all right?|- Yeah, yeah. Great.
And it's not about money|and popularity--
And the chicks are great. Right?
Keep the small bills on the outside,|and call me if anyone gets drunk.
I will call you if anyone,|anywhere, gets drunk.
- Good.|- And don't take drugs.
Ha-ha. Very funny.
See? Sense of humor.
Funny joke. Have fun at the dance.|I'm glad you're making friends.
- Mom, stay.|- Okay.
Love you. Bye.
I always tell the girls,|never take it seriously.
If you never take it seriously,|you never get hurt.
If you never get hurt,|you always have fun.
And if you ever get lonely...
you just go to the record store...
and visit your friends.
- So you and Russell--|- No!
Russell has a girlfriend,|and I can't even say her name.
It's all happening.|I'm about to use you as protection.
- Penny!|- Hi!
I saw them on the 7th floor.
Mr. Jimmy Page, Mr. john Paul Jones,|Mr. Robert Plant.
Mr. Robert Plant, he signed--
signed my T-shirt five minutes ago.
Please don't smear it.|Oh, dear God. Please don't smear it.
But five minutes ago,|he touched this pen.
- Vic is a Zeppelin fan.|- I picked that up.
He tours with them,|but not, you know, with them.
Yeah, they're on the top floor now.
There's no bigger|Zeppelin fan than Vic.
Please stay
I wanna hear you play
Very dear, very close|friend of Lester Bangs.
William Miller.
Ladies and gentlemen!
At this time, please extinguish|all smoking materials...
for the captain has turned on|the '' No Smoking'' sign.
Your seats and tray tables|should be locked...
and in their full,|upright position.
The hell with it.
- Play on.|- Miss Penny Lane.
Oh, thank you, thank you.
Act One, in which she pretends|she doesn't care...
about him.
Act Two, in which he pretends|he doesn't care about her...
but he goes right for her.
Act Three, in which|it all plays out...
the way she planned it.
She'll eat him alive.
- We've got to stop them.|- Stop them?
You were her excuse|for coming here.
I need ice.
Hi, man.
- William Miller?|- This is he.
This is Ben Fong-Torres. I'm the|music editor at Rolling Stone magazine.
We got a couple copies of your stories|from the San Diego Door.
- Is this the same William Miller?|- Yes, it is.
''Voice of God, howling dogs,|the spirit of rock 'n' roll.''
- This is good stuff, man.|- Thanks.
Uh, thanks. Thanks.
I think you should be|writing for us. Any ideas?
- How about Stillwater?|- Stillwater?
'' Hard-working band makes good.''|New album out, their third.
Starting to do something. Crazy.
Let's do 3, 000 words.|We'll join the band on the road.
Don't let the band|pay for anything.
We can only pay, let me see...
3,000 words--
Seven hundred dollars.
All right, a grand.
What's your background?|Are you a journalism major?
- Yeah.|- What college?
Honey, I need you to do that thing|that fixes the garbage disposal.
Well, I certainly know how my lady gets|when you don't snap to it.
- Crazy.|- Crazy.
Beware, beware of|Rolling Stone magazine...
because they will|change your story...
they'll rewrite it, you know,|turn it into swill--
But besides that,|what would be wrong with it?
You got starry eyes, my friend.
Look. Do the story.
Who cares, you know?|It'll be good for ya.
Remember this: Don't do it|to make friends with people...
who are trying to use you...
to further the big business desire...
to glorify worthless rock stars|like Stillwater!
Donít let those|swill merchants rewrite you.
- ''Swill merchants.'' That's good.|- Yeah, swill merchants.
- What are you listening to?|- Stillwater.
Stillwater?|Fucking kid's doing drugs.
No more than four days...
and I want you to give me|a phone number where you are.
I want you to call me twice a day,|and you do not miss more than one test!
And no drugs.
Oh, this is a big mistake.
Come on, Doris, you darling bus.|You can make it.
- This is what I was talking about.|- Russell, excuse me.
I was wondering|if maybe we could...
find some time to talk|when we get to Phoenix.
I want to interview everyone separately,|and I thought we'd start with...
-just you and me.|- Absolutely.
- I've got a thing in a couple days.|- We'll figure out something later.
just enjoy the ride.
- Keep playing that song.|- All right.
Come by in a few minutes.|We'll do that interview.
- All right?|- Sure.
- Is this Mr. Miller?|- Yeah.
You have a message from Elaine.
Your mother.
She's a handful.
- I know.|- She freaked me out.
I'm worried, man.
No, you can trust him.|He's a fan.
But it's Rolling Stone.
He looks harmless, but he does represent|the magazine that trashed '' Layla''...
broke up Cream, ripped every album|Led Zeppelin ever made.
Don't forget the rules, man.|This little shit is the Enemy.
He writes what he sees.
If I don't get into a room,|I'll take a Valium--
Although it would be cool|to be on the cover.
You are going to get me|in so much trouble!
Simon Kirke from Bad Company|is by the pool.
Go away!
Should I come by later?
Yes. I'm in too truthful a mood.
- Maybe that's a good thing.|- Go away!
- You okay?|- Yeah.
Don't worry. Come to|the radio interview tonight. Okay?
Go away!
- Bye.|- You're so rude.
- May I speak with William?|- He 's still in the bar with the band.
They just got back from the radio|station. Is this Maryann, with the pot?
No. This is not|Maryann with the pot.
This is Elaine.|His mother.
Could you give William|a message for me, please?
Tell him to call home immediately,|and also tell him...
I know what's going on.
Okay. But I'm just gonna say this,|and I'm gonna stand by it:
You should be|really proud of him.
'Cause I know men,|and I'll bet you do too.
He respects women,|and he likes women.
And let's just pause|and appreciate a man like that.
You created him out of thin air,|you know, you raised him right.
He's having a great time.|He's doing a good job.
And, don't worry, he's still a virgin,|and we 're all looking out for him.
You know? That's more than I've|ever even said to my own parents.
So there you go.
This is the maid speaking,|by the way.
- Can you please hold it down?|- Sorry, ma'am!
Russell! So, what is it|you love about music?
Shut that thing off for a second|and I'll tell you the truth, all right?
Look-- Fuck. I trust you,|so I'm just gonna lay this right on ya.
just make us look cool.
I will quote you|warmly and accurately.
Well, that's what|I'm worried about.
Some of us...
we got girlfriends|back home, you know?
Some of us have wives.
And some of the people|that you meet on the road...
are really amazing people.
Like you.
But some of the stuff that happens,|it's good for...
a few people to know about,|as opposed to, say...
a million people.
- Understand what I'm trying to say?|- Yeah.
See, I grew up with these guys,|but I can't play all that I can play.
I'm past 'em,|as musicians, but...
the more popular we get,|the bigger their houses get...
the more responsibilities,|the pressure, you know--
The harder it gets|for me to walk out on them.
What am I doing?
I'm telling secrets to the one guy|you don't tell secrets to.
We'll do the interview tomorrow.
So tonight, it's--|Well, friends.
- Yeah, right.|- We trust ya.
Stinking Rhodes!
- Hey, what's going on?|- Russell just got electrocuted!
Come on! Let's get on the bus!|Let's go!
This is bullshit, man.|Who's taking care of us?
- Who's responsible for the gear?|- I'm gonna deal with it.
Get on the bus!|Please, everyone!
- Let's go!|- Hey, cowboy.
- You the manager of this band?|- That and more!
You didn't finish|your full set, man.
Listen, pal. Your shoddy stage setup|almost killed my guitarist!
You trashed my fucking dressing room,|and you didn't do your 25 minutes.
-Don't fuck with my band's safety, ever!|-Fuck you, man!
I'm gonna report you|to every promoter in this country!
What is that?|What are you, Bruce Lee?
Lock the gates!
- Motherfucker!|- Let's go through the fucking gate.
That's your last|fucking tour, man!
Lock the gates|on these fuckheads!
- Where's my goddamn cart?|- William?
I forgot to tell you.|Your mom called.
She says you gotta|call home immediately.
And she says to tell you,|'' I know what's going on.''
So, I'll see you guys|in Topeka, okay?
You don't know who you're|dealing with here! Lock the gates!
- You wanna buy a gate?|- Yeah!
You just bought a gate!
Russell, wake up.
Wake up, man.|High school girls.
Let it go.|Let it go, buddy.
When do we get in to Topeka, man?
- Larry, you're a sick individual.|- Wake up, man.
Look at all these fucking|tasty-looking high school girls.
We can't stop the bus|every time you see a girl in shorts.
Hey, when we go to Morocco...
I think we should wear|completely different clothes...
and be completely different people.
What will our names be?
What do you think of Russell?
I like him.
But that's between us.|Because I am a professional.
- You're coming to Cleveland, right?|- Oh, no.
I have to get my interview|with Russell before Greenville.
- You've got to help me, okay?|- Here's the thing about Russell.
He's my last project.
I only do this for a very few people,|and I think we should do it together.
Because all the guys are good,|but he could be great.
What's your real name?
All right, let's go!
Oh, it's okay.|I'm easy to forget.
just leave me behind!
I'm only the fucking lead singer!
- You said you'd tell me where you were.|- Mom, I know!
You told me you would|call me twice a day.
- You told me you wouldn't miss tests.|- I'll be home for graduation.
- Mom--|- Where are you?
Right now, Topeka.|Then Greenville, then home.
What about graduation?|We had an agreement, William.
I'm sorry I didn't|call you yesterday.
I guess I just miss you,|and I don't understand...
why I've driven my two kids|so far away from me.
By all practical rules,|don't I get you for another three years?
Was I not fun?
This is Beth from Denver.
She's one of the legendary,|original Band Aids.
- She's clairvoyant!|- I can't read your mind or anything.
I mean, I pick up things|here and there.
Estrella says hi.
- She says I can stay in your room.|- Sure.
Great. I've got some...
hydroponic pot!
Wow, your aura|is really fantastic!
- It's this beautiful purple color.|- I love you.
I missed the last thing you said.
- Your aura is purple!|- I love you.
- What?|- Purple! It's purple!
- Mom, what?|- Your aura is purple.
I miss you and I love you!
I love you.
All right.|Fire away. I'm ready.
Do you have to be depressed|to write a sad song?
Do you have to be in love|to write a love song?
Is the song better|if it really happened to you?
Like '' Love Thing.'' Where did you|write that? Who is it about?
When did you get|so professional?
Gentlemen, your first|T-shirts have arrived.
It's the record company's mistake,|and they will pay.
T-shirts are gone.|Band happy, all right?
Can we just skip the vibe, and go|straight to us laughing about this?
Yeah, okay.
Because I can see by your face|you want to get into it.
How can you tell?|I'm just one of the out-of-focus guys.
Here. Take it.
Let's take a good look at it,|all right?
See, you love this T-shirt.
It lets you say|everything you want to say.
Well, it speaks|pretty loudly to me.
It's a T-shirt.
Do you give a shit|about a T-shirt?
I'm just hungry, man. Let's just go out|and find some barbecue or something.
I'm always gonna|tell you the truth.
From the very beginning,|we said I'm the front man...
and you're the guitarist|with mystique.
That's the dynamic we agreed on.
Page, Plant, Mick, Keith--
but somehow it's all turning around.
We have got to control|what's happening!
- There's a responsibility here.|- Excuse me.
Didn't we all get into this|to avoid responsibility?
I can't say any more|with the writer here.
You can trust him.|Say what you want.
He won't write it.
I work as hard, or harder,|than anybody on that stage.
You know what I do?|I connect.
I get people off!.
I look for the one guy|who isn't getting off...
and I make him get off.
Actually, that you can print!
And yet, why do I always end up|feeling like I'm a joke to you?
You want to pretend this isn't|gonna be a very big band? Well, it is!
You call yourself|a leader of this band...
but your direction|allowed this T-shirt...
when you allowed Dick|to manage us.
'Cause he's your friend!
Don't you see, man?|The T-shirt is everything.
Is it my turn now?
Because I think we should, for once,|say what we really mean.
- This is the part where you quit!|- Right. I'm so predictable.
Deal with it.
And let me say|what nobody else wants to say.
- What?|- Your looks have become a problem!
All right, enough!|Break it up.
Everyone out of the room|for five minutes.
Hey! Yeah.|William. Sorry.
Come on, man. Come on.
Let's go find something real.
From here on out, I'm only interested|in what is real.
Real people, real feelings.|That's it.
That's all I'm interested in|from here on out.
You're real.
- Thanks.|- You know...
you know all about us,|and I don't know shit about you.
Tell me,|what's your family like?
My dad died of a heart attack...
and my sister believes|that my mom is so intense...
that she had to escape our family...
and they can't seem to find|a way to get through it.
I mean, they don't even speak|to each other anymore.
Plus, she gave me all her albums,|and now she's a stewardess?
It's good to talk about.
Really good.|But here I am telling secrets...
to the one guy youíre not supposed to|tell your secrets to.
You're Russell from Stillwater.
Well, yeah, on my better days,|I am Russell from Stillwater.
Hey, you wanna go to a party with me|at my friend Aaron's house?
I mean, I know you're|a big rock star and all...
but do you wanna hang with some good|people looking to have a good time?
- We're just real Topeka people, man.|- Smoke some righteous weed.
- Thanks.|- You too.
Oh, my God! Holy shit!
Fuck!|I grew up with that lamp shade.
I love this kitchen.|I fucking love this kitchen!
That's William over there.|Hey, William!
You, Aaron,|are what it's all about.
You're real.
Your room is real.|Your friends are real.
Real, man, real.|You know? Real.
Real. You know?
You're more important|than all the silly machinery.
Silly machinery.|And you know it!
I n eleven years, it's gonna be 1 984,|man. Think about that!
Wanna see me feed a mouse|to my snake?
Russell, we should probably|get back with the others.
- Oh, it's over, daddy.|- Hey...
there's acid in the beer|that's in the red cups.
That's wonderful.
Topeka. Check it out.
Please, don't give him any more acid.|Thank you.
Dick? Dick, I got him.
He's okay.
He is on acid, though.
I can't really tell.|How do you know when it's kicked in?
I am a golden god!
Yes, you are!
- I am a golden god!|- Hey, Russell!
Donít jump.
And you can tell|Rolling Stone magazine...
that my last words...
I'm on drugs.
I think we should work|on those last words!
Okay. Oh, I got it, I got it.|I got it.
I got it. I got it.|This is better.
Last words.
I dig music.
I'm on drugs!
Look, just come on down...
and we'll go back to the hotel.
-j ump.|-j ump!
Save Russell!
They've been crying for you|like a bunch of whimpering pussies.
Oh, this band's over.
- This is my family now.|- That's right.
- Right, man.|- Definitely.
- He's staying with us.|- Let's just ride on down to Greenville.
We'll listen to some great music.|We'll finish the tour...
and then we'll leave|those ungrateful fools behind.
Then we'll come back here,|where you'll live.
- That sounds good.|- Yeah, and he can stay in our basement.
-I see what you're doing, and I like it.|-Okay, good.
Come on.
- I got it, man, I got it.|- Yeah.
That felt kind a good, though.
Excuse me, kids.
Look at him.|He's taking notes with his eyes.
How do we know|you're not a cop? Huh?
The Enemy?|Stop fucking looking at me!
Easy. Easy.
Don't worry. He only means half|of what he says.
Which half?
Dick, just help me get|my interview.
- I have to go home, Dick.|- Okay, okay.
- I have to go home.|- Look.
You saved the tour, and that's|good enough for now, all right?
- Come on, big fell, let's go.|- I hurt the flower.
Did you, man? You hurt the flower?|That's nice. Come on, on the bus.
Ladies and gentlemen,|the evening is over!
We hope you all enjoyed yourselves.
And we'll see you all again in 1 974.|Good evening!
Handing' tickets out for God
Turning 'back
She just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad
Piano man
He makes his stand
In the auditorium
Lookin 'on
She sings her songs
The words she knows|the tune she hums
Hold me closer, tiny dancer
I have to go home.
Count the headlights on the highway
You are home.
Lay me down in the sheets of linen
You had a busy day today
In Carl Jung's opinion...
we all have a sixth sense--|intuition.
When you meet someone and you suddenly|feel like you can't live without them...
this could be the memory of a past love|from the collective unconscious.
Or, it could just be hormones.
I'm sorry, I can't concentrate.
Rock stars have kidnapped my son.
Lester, Rolling Stone is calling me.
I don't have my key interview.|I don't know what to say.
Days are just going by out here.
You're flipping out. It's good.|All right.
This is how you blow their minds.|He's gonna ask you--
- This is Ben Fong-Torres, right?|- Yeah, yeah.
He 's gonna ask you|how the storyís going...
and this is what you do.
Tell him...
you know, it's a--|it's a think-piece...
about a mid-level band...
struggling with|their own limitations...
in the, you know,|harsh face of stardom.
Harsh... face--
Yeah, he'll wet himself.
All dressed up and no place to go.
Greenville--|I'm bored.
I have to pee.
Let's deflower the kid.
Whoa, hold on, hold on.|Wait.
I should leave. I think|things are going backwards for me.
- Backwards?|- Well, I don't know. I just--
I thought maybe we could hang out,|you know, do some stuff back home...
like regular stuff...
get to know each other|a little bit better...
and then I'd see you pee.
I mean, you know, that's just the way|I usually do it.
You're one of us.
If you come to Cleveland...
Bowie's gonna be at Swingo's,|the greatest hotel in America.
I'll introduce you to him|and his security guard, Dennis.
Don't you have any regular friends?
Famous people|are just more interesting.
Well, I would be worried|that they were using me.
Boy, if this was the real world...
- Not that anybody's using you!|- and some guy talked to me like that--
No. Hold on.
I'm not famous. But--
- Your time has come!|- Did Russell call?
- Deflower.|- Opie must die.
- Pants him, girls.|- Stop. We're talking.
Opie must die.
- Okay.|- No, come on!
No, come on, please.|Guys, come on, I have to write.
Baby, yes.
Come on, Penny, join us.
Take a vacation from yourself.|Leave this up to professionals.
Don't worry, William.
I've seen the future,|and this all works out reasonably well.
Hello. This is Ben Fong-Torres|calling from Rolling Stone.
Hi, Ben Fong-Torres|from Rolling Stone.
Hello, hello.
- You have such a sexy voice.|- Hello, Ben.
William Miller, this is your editor|from Rolling Stone. How's the story?
I'm getting good stuff out here.
- Yeah, it sounds like it.|- Man, I need some--
Now listen.|Get it together, man.
We're both professionals here, okay?|I don't need to tell you this.
You're not out there to join the party.|We already have one Hunter Thompson.
You're out there to interview|and report. You got me?
Now, this isn't Creem magazine.|This is Rolling Stone.
We need this story in four days.|Now I wanna know how it's shaping up.
It's a think-piece|about a mid-level band...
struggling with their own limitations|in the harsh face of stardom.
That's great.
I like what we're saying.
Let me try and get you|a thousand more words.
Now, it's in consideration|for the cover...
but don't tell the band.
The cover of Rolling Stone magazine.|Crazy.
Some coffee.
Me too.|Greenville is so boring.
You know, any other city|in the world...
and you'd still be a virgin.
- Oh, God. Oh, God.|- What?
I've never written anything more|than a few pages in my whole life.
Don't worry, baby, you will.
I gotta find Russell.|I gotta find Russell.
Oh, will you take the laundry?
Take the laundry?
What am I to you?|Huh? Tell me.
Tell me right now.|What am I to you?
Excuse me, sir,|would you mind signing for this?
Good morning.
Please go the fuck away!
Hey, how you doing?
Oh, my God!
Hi, welcome to Swingo's Celebrity Inn.|You must be Stillwater.
It's Bowie!
Hi, Mom. I'm in Cleveland.|Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I'm gonna fly back Monday morning.
No, no, no,|I'll only miss one test.
I'll be back for graduation.
Tell her youíre a slave to the groove.|You canít help it.
Hey, Mom, it's Russell Hammond.|I play guitar in Stillwater.
Hey, how does it feel|to be the mother of the greatest...
rock journalist we've met?
Look, you got a great kid here.|There's nothing to worry about.
We're taking good care of him.|You should come to the show sometime.
- Hey, listen to me, mister.|-join the circus.
Your charm doesn't work on me.|I'm onto you.
Oh, of course you like him.
Well, yeah.
He worships you people.
And that's fine by you|as long as he helps make you rich.
- Rich? I don't think so. We sit--|- Listen to me.
He 's a smart, good-hearted|15-year-old kid...
with infinite potential.
This is not some apron-wearing mother|you're speaking to.
I know about your Valhalla decadence,|and I shouldn't have let him go.
He's not ready for your world|of compromised values...
and diminished brain cells|that you throw away like confetti.
Am I speaking to you clearly?
- Yes, ma'am.|- If you break his spirit...
harm him in any way...
keep him from his chosen profession,|which is law...
something you may not value,|but I do...
you will meet the voice|at the other end of this telephone.
And it will not be pretty.|Do we understand each other?
- Uh, yes, ma'am.|- I didn't ask for this role...
but I'll play it.
Now go do your best.
'' Be bold and mighty forces|will come to your aid.''
Goethe said that.
It's not too late for you to become|a person of substance, Russell.
Please get my son home safely.
You know, I'm glad we spoke.
Song and pong|it sounds like lots of fun
Won't you get on my back|for piggyback ride
Get on my back|for piggyback ride
- All right, boys.|- All right.
Your mom kind of freaked me out.
She means well.
From Troy, Michigan...
would you please welcome|to Cleveland...
Father, Father
Tell me the story|tell me what to do
Doctor, Doctor
Is there a cure|for the young man's broken blues
And he said
Everybody knows
Yeah, you had to be there
Girl, you had to be there
Did you see that chick's shirt|in front of Russell?
When you play a great show|like tonight--
Okay, I need everyone's attention,|please.
Girls, I need five minutes|with the band alone.
Right.|Well, it seems the rumors are true.
The record company has sent|a big-time manager here...
to try and talk you|into replacing me.
His name is Dennis Hope.|I know you've all heard of him.
He's got all the big bands,|and he's outside right now...
and he wants five minutes with you.
And, well, I think|we've gotta do this.
- Well, send him in.|- Yeah, bring him in.
- We'll send him out on a rail!|- All right.
We'll finish the interview in Maryland.|You can fly home from Maryland, okay?
Hey, we've already got a manager.|He's been with us from the beginning.
Respectfully.|We all have our roots.
I believe in bands|holding on to their roots.
Those roots need to be augmented.
Your manager here|needs a manager.
Example-- if you hadn't have run out|on your contract in Phoenix...
we could have sued|over Russell's hand.
But you left, negating the contract,|forfeiting the deposit.
You effectively traveled a long way|to pay that promoter to electrocute you.
Okay, your damages have put you|way in the hole for this tour.
Right now, you owe the record company|more than you've got.
But your record's selling.|There's money to be made.
So I brought a plane in. We could add|more shows to make up the difference.
- Respectfully.|- We travel by bus.
Doris is the soul of this band.
That bus has been our home since|we were the Jeff Bebe band. No way.
Hey, man, I'd travel on a pogo stick|if I thought we could make more money.
You could play more dates|with a plane.
Well, it's not about money. It's about|playing music and turning people on.
Clearly. Respectfully.
Why should we pay you for something|we can do ourselves?
Do you know how to keep|from getting charged...
for the ice below the floorboards|at Chicago Stadium?
Do you know how to do|a headlining tour?
Do you know how to get a record|not pressed, but played?
You gotta take what you can,|when you can, while you can...
and you gotta do it now.
That's what the big boys do.
Because if you think Mick Jagger'll|still be out there...
trying to be a rock star at age 50,|you're sadly, sadly mistaken.
I didn't invent the rainy day, man.|I just own the best umbrella.
I'm telling you, you're coming along at|a very dangerous time for rock and roll.
The war is over.|They won...
and they will ruin rock and roll...
and strangle everything|we love about it.
Put 'em up.|All right, money down.
One guy says, '' I'll draw a picture|and you guess what it is, all right?''
- Can I help you?|- Is Russell Hammond here?
Hey, the Enemy!|Come on in, son.
Welcome to the road manager|poker party.
This game's been going on for two years.|Come on, find a spot.
- This is Mick. He's with The Who.|- How you doing?
This is Raymond. He's with the Eagles.|This is Reg. He's with Humble Pie.
- I think you know Red Dog.|- Hey, brother!
We've been developing this system|of poker over the years...
- so you can play it in any condition.|- Any.
- All right, I'm in.|- All right, all right.
Side proposition to the winner.
For 50 bucks and a case of Heineken...
I'll throw into the pot|three lovely ladies...
including Miss Penny Lane|and the famous Band Aids...
who have to leave the tour|before New York.
- Is that okay with you?|- Russ is getting soft on us.
- Is that okay?|- Okay.
- It's a deal.|- Show 'em.
Three lovely ladies|in the custody of Humble Pie.
- Be good to 'em, Rich.|- We owe you $50 and a case of Heineken.
All right.
-joint?|-You know how I know this is good stuff?
- How's that?|- This is from Crosby.
- Is that the Crosby weed?|- Yeah, this is from Crosby.
- Oh, I'm in.|- I'm in.
Give me this.|Give me a light. I want fire.
Look, nobody's feelings|are getting hurt here.
She already knows that Leslie's coming|to New York tomorrow.
Everybody understands.
This is the circus.|Everybody's trying not to go home.
- Nobody's saying good-bye.|- Would you like some?
- I may.|- How many?
- Quit looking at me like that.|- You think you can fool me.
I can read you.|I know what you're thinking.
- What's that?|- You're worried about me and Russell.
Yeah, I gotta work on that.
You're so sweet.
God, if there was more of you in him.
Don't tell me this stuff.|I wanna like him.
Did you miss your test or something?
- You have no idea.|- Look, I know I'm not on the plane.
I'm not going|on some other band's bus.
I could go with the Stillwater road crew|but that would be pathetic...
and the girls are all going|with Humble Pie.
So, if you could find out|from Russell--
Forget it.|I'm flying to New York myself.
I've got a bunch of partial tickets.|I know his ex-wife...
current-girlfriend thing|is gonna be there.
I'm not sure that's a good idea.
What are you saying?|Did Russell say something?
- I don't know anything.|- Well, I know he wants me there.
Wake up!|Don't go to New York.
- Why are you yelling at me?|- I thought we were going to Morocco.
There is no Morocco.|There's never been a Morocco.
There's not even a Penny Lane.
I don't even know|your real name.
If I ever met a man|in the real world...
who looked at me|the way you just looked at me--
When and where|does this '' real world'' occur?
I mean, I am really confused here.|All these rules...
and all these sayings and nicknames.
Honey, you're too sweet|for rock and roll.
Sweet? Where do you get off?
Where do you get sweet?
I am dark and mysterious|and pissed off!.
And I could be very dangerous|to all of you.
I am not sweet!
And you should know that about me.|I am the Enemy!
Look, you should be happy for me.
You don't know|what he says to me in private.
Maybe it is love,|as much as it can be for somebody--
Who sold you to Humble Pie|for 50 bucks and a case of beer?
I was there.
I was there!
Oh, God.
I'm sorry.
What kind of beer?
Welcome to New York!|It's okay to be nervous.
You should be nervous.|All you can do is be yourself...
and leave a pint of blood|on that stage.
We showed you America.|We did everything but get you laid.
No. Yeah?
I'm from the Church of Lenny. We bow|to his will and all it represents.
She's here.
- Can I have your autograph?|- Yep.
- How you doing?|-Jeffrey.
Room's fully stocked.|Air-conditioning's on.
- And, by the way, you look stunning.|- Thanks. See you later.
All right, bags in five!
Cars leave for the party at 6:00.
It's all happening.|They're here.
Zeppelin are here.|They are here.
They're at the Plaza.
Sapphire and Miss Penny Lane|are there too.
They're all staying under the name|Emily Rugburn.
Wait. Penny Lane is here?
- Emily Rugburn.|- William Miller.
Sir, you have an urgent call.
Hello? This is Jan Winner,|publisher of Rolling Stone.
Congratulations,|it's gonna be a cover.
Annie Liebowitz'll shoot 'em|next week in LA...
but we are gonna need you|back in San Francisco tomorrow.
You can finish the story here.|Okay? Talk to Ben.
You can tell the band. Alison, our|fact-checker, needs you to transmit...
whatever you have of the story tonight,|now, along with your notes.
There's a mojo at the Daily News|they'll let us use.
A mojo?
A mojo. It's a very modern machine|that transmits pages over the telephone.
It only takes 1 8 minutes a page.
Guys, I have some good news.
- I don't know why every time I'm here--|- Guys!
What's the problem?|I subscribe to the magazine.
You're gonna be on the cover|of Rolling Stone.
Are you serious?
The cover of Rolling Stone.
And we made it together.
- And they donít just put somebody...|- Thanks a lot.
with one little hit on the cover|of Rolling Stone...
fucking magazine, man!
Damn it, I'm gonna enjoy this.|When I first bought the magazine...
the Beatles were on the cover.
The Beatles.|Four of them, four of us.
We take all kind of pills|that give us all kind of thrills
But the thrill we never know|was the thrill that'll get you
When you get your picture|on the cover of Rolling Stone
Wanna see my picture|on the cover
Gonna buy five copies|for my mother
Wanna see my smiling face|on the cover
Of Rolling Stone
Thank you!
Who is that girl?|She's creeping me out.
She's not with any of you guys,|is she?
- Yeah, she's with me.|- She's with me.
So, uh, who's gonna shoot it?
- I love Annie Liebowitz.|- Real impressive.
I love Annie's stuff.|She does great stuff.
I am no good at good-byes.
And you...
are the last of my...
old-time friends.
Polexia went to England|with Deep Purple.
Can you believe that?
Even Sapphire went someplace else.
All she left was her Quaaludes.
Oh, wonderful.
Where's Beth?
Where are all my friends?
Front desk?|Could you please send a doctor?
Room 537.
- Penny, get up!|- I'm up.
My wife's had an accident|with some Quaaludes.
- So tired.|- You gotta get up, Penny.
- Penny, get up. Get up.|- I'm so--
You know that.|You know that I'm retired.
Always been.|Am retired, and I'm tired.
-Jane Abbott.|- Missjane Abbott.
Miss Judy Stanton.
- Raymond Sanchez.|- Mr. Raymond Sanchez.
- As time goes on|- Seats and tray tables.
Seat back|and tray tables locked.
And our pending graduate,|William Miller, not present.
Why doesn't he love me?
And to the class of1973...
we say, don't forget to remember|yourselves as you are today.'
full of hope|and the dream...
- that everything is possible.|- Penny, no!
- Wake up!|- And remember this...
- I'm up.|- 20years from now.
Well, now that I have your attention...
I know you've heard this before,|and I've never said this to anybody.
Well, nobody who didn't legally|have to say it back to me.
Oh, God, why am I so nervous?
You'll never remember this.
I love you...
and I'm about to boldly go where...
many men have gone before.
Okay, what do we got here?|What's her name?
Okay, sweetheart,|sit up, sit up, sit up, sit up.
-Good girl. What'd you take, sweetheart?|-I'll get her legs.
- What did you take?|- Okay.
-What did you take, sweetheart? Come on.|-I don't know.
Yes, you do.|Tell us what you took.
Emily, we're gonna have|to pump your stomach, okay?
- Emily, wake up.|- We got the tubes. Here we go. Water.
All right, now, you're gonna|have to swallow this tube.
All right? Open, open, open.
- All right, come on.|- Don't bite us. We're trying to help.
- Relax.|- Come on, swallow. Swallow.
- Come on. I know, I know.|- We're trying to help you.
Swallow this down.|No, don't bite on it. Don't bite.
Swallow. Emily, come on.|Swallow.
-just relax. Got it.|- Very good.
There we go. All done.
All done. There.
Now we gotta--|Come on.
Feed some liquid|into your stomach.
So I guess|what I'm trying to say is...
I've done twice the things|I said I've done.
What about your mom?
She always said, '' Marry up.
Marry someone grand.''
And that's why she named me '' Lady.''
She named you '' Lady'' ?
Lady Goodman.
Lady Goodman-- that's great.
Now you know all my secrets.|You've got me.
See you back in the real world.
Thank you, William Miller.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to|Eastern Airlines nonstop service...
to San Diego.
In preparation|for our departure today...
we'd like to ask, please, that|you extinguish all flammable items...
and do return all seats and tray tables|to their full--
May I have your attention, please?
...that your seatbelts|are securely fastened.
And do make note|of the emergency exits.
Why didn't you come back to the party|last night? Bob Dylan showed up.
He was sitting at our table for what had|to be an hour or something, right, Dick?
- Yeah.|-just rapping.
Bob Dylan at our fucking table.|I was looking for you.
- I was gonna introduce you.|- What happened to you last night?
It's a long story.
Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue
Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty|Peggy Sue
Hi, this is Craig, your pilot.
It appears we've caught the edge|of that electrical storm...
- we were trying to outrun.|- Oh, my God.
- Electrical storm?|- So buckle up tight now.
- We 're gonna do our best here.|- Rock and roll.
We shouldn't be here.
- Oh, my God!|- Whoa, baby!
Doris, we miss you!
All right, listen.|We're gonna try and land in Tupelo.
- We found a field to land in.|- A field?
I can't breathe, man.
It's gonna be kind of a rough set-down,|but we should be fine.
just hang in there,|and we'll get you out of this.
Everyone says|it's so glamorous out here.
- He just told us we're gonna die.|- We're gonna die?
...Thy will be done on Earth--
I'm trying to maintain,|but the fucking thing won't--
Oh, my God!
If something should happen--|Maybe I never said this enough.
I love all of you.
I once hit a man in Dearborn, Michigan.|A hit and run.
I hit him and just kept on going.|I don't know if he's alive or dead...
but I'm sorry.
Not a day goes by|I don't see his face.
Oh, my God!
Look, I love you all too.|You're like a family to me.
Especially since Marna left me.|And listen, fellas...
I just want you to know, if I took|an extra dollar or two here and there...
it's because I knew I'd earned it.
- Yeah. I slept with Marna, Dick.|- I did too.
I waited until you broke up with her,|but me too.
I also slept with Leslie,|when you were fighting.
- You slept with Jeff?|- Yeah, but it didn't count.
It was the summer we decided|to be free of all rules.
And you say you love me!
I don't love you, man.|I never did.
None of us love you.
You act above us.|You always have.
Finally, the truth.
You just held it over us,|like you might leave.
Like we're lucky to be with you.|And we had to live with it, man.
I had to live with you.
And now I might die with you,|and it's not fucking fair.
Please, enough!
And I'm still in love with you,|Leslie.
Oh, I don't wanna hear any more.|Shut up, Jeffrey!
- It's all happening.|- What the fuck!
- Whatever happens, Bebe, you're dead.|- Don't be self-righteous, Russell.
Not now, man.
You were sleeping with Penny,|that fucking groupie...
last summer up until yesterday.
Why don't you tell Leslie that?
- Shut up!|- I quit!
- I'm gonna kill you!|- I quit!
''That groupie'' ?
She was a Band Aid.|All she did was love your band.
And you all used her.
All of you.|You used her and threw her away.
She almost died last night|while you were with Bob Dylan.
You guys, you're always talking|about the fans, the fans, the fans.
She was your biggest fan.
And you threw her away.
And if you can't see that,|that's your biggest problem.
And I love her!|I love her!
Fuck it!
I'm-- I'm gay!
Thank God, we're alive!|We're alive! We're gonna make it!
- We're out of the clear now.|- Sweet relief!.
Sweet life!|Hallelujah, dear God!
We made it. We're alive.
Write what you want.
You're William Miller?
- Yep.|- Oh, baby.
Didn't anything happen? I mean,|after $600 in room-service bills?
Didn't you get anything on tape|with Russell Hammond?
And where were you in this piece?|What did you wanna write?
Because this reads|like what they wanted you to write.
You obviously saw more|than you wrote about.
- Something must have happened.|- Let's push up Flippo's Who cover.
Good, 'cause it's gonna take me|three days to get through this research.
It's all handwritten|on little bits of paper.
- It's a puff-piece.|- They refer to the women as ''chicks.''
-As a woman, I have a problem with that.|-You want 'em to like you.
- I know it's a side issue.|- It happens.
- It's embarrassing.|- Ben! You told me to send what I had.
It's not finished.|Give me tonight to work on it.
Oh, man, you made friends with 'em.
See, friendship is the booze|they feed you...
'cause they want you to get drunk|and feel like you belong.
Well, it was fun.
Because they make you feel cool.
- And, hey, I met you. You are not cool.|- I know.
Even when I thought I was,|I knew I wasn't.
Because we are uncool.
While women will always be|a problem for guys like us...
most of the great art in the world|is about that very problem.
Good-looking people--|they got no spine.
Their art never lasts.
They get the girls,|but we're smarter.
- Yeah, I can really see that now.|- Yeah, 'cause great artist about...
you know, guilt and longing...
and, you know,|love disguised as sex...
and sex disguised as love.
Hey, let's face it.|You got a big head start.
I'm glad you were home.
I'm always home.|I'm uncool.
- Me too.|- You're doing great, you know?
The only true currency|in this bankrupt world...
is what you share with someone else|when you're uncool.
Listen, my advice to you--
and I know you think|these guys are your friends--
if you wanna be a true friend to them...
be honest and unmerciful.
'' I'm flying high|over Tupelo, Mississippi...
with America's hottest band...
and we're all about to die.''
- Dark, lively.|- Yeah, yeah, and it gets better.
- Did this all really happen?|- I'll call and check the quotes.
Holy shit! I just got off the phone|with Rolling Stone.
They called me too.|What's he using?
All-- he's using it all.|This, according to the ''fact-checker.''
So what?
''So what'' ?|We come off like amateurs...
some average band trying to come|to grips with success...
jealous and fighting|and breaking up.
We're buffoons.
'' Rock and roll can save the world'' ?
''The chicks are great'' ?|I sound like a dick.
- You are a dick.|- I never said that.
Maybe we just don't see ourselves|the way we really are.
Is it that hard|to make us look cool?
This kid has you on acid screaming,|'' I'm a golden god'' from a fan's rooftop.
They used him to fuck us. They'll|probably just put you on the cover.
Wait. I never said,|'' I'm a golden god.''
Or did I ?
He was never a person.|He was a journalist!
It's phenomenal, William,|to be quite honest with you.
It's sophisticated, intelligent. We|only had to cut out a couple of grafs.
Jeff Bebe's mother already sent over a|whole shoe box full of childhood photos.
- She did?|- But it's really gonna look fantastic.
The band just denied 90 percent|of the story. It's a fabrication.
You weren't honest.|And worse, you wasted our time.
Did you talk to Russell Hammond?
Russell Hammond is the one|who denied it.
- Now wait a second.|- Denied it.
We're going with The Who.|Manuscript's in my office.
He's just some fan.|What do you expect?
So, anyway, put those two pieces--
You guys, this is my brother.
- Nice to finally meet you.|- You have a good day.
You guys, I'll deadhead back later.
I think I'm needed.
I'll see you.
You look awful, but it's great.
You're living your life.
You're free of Mom.
Hey, I'll take off work.
Let's have an adventure together--|you and me-- finally.
Anywhere you wanna go,|anywhere in the world.
This is not my idea of a good time.
-just get me to my bed.|- I'll deal with her.
I forgive you.
I didn't apologize.
I am out of here.
- Hey, Sapphire.|- Hey, boy.
- I hate good-byes.|- Me too.
Is Penny okay?
The Quaaludes incident?|Well, it wasn't pretty.
She could've died.
You know, I always told her not to let|too many guys fall in love with her.
I guess I was wrong.|One of them ended up saving her life.
What do you care? I mean,|we all know what you did to him.
I mean, everybody knows.
Even Penny Lane.
How you doing?
Can you believe these new girls?
None of them use birth control,|and they eat all the steak.
I mean, they don't even know|what it is to be a fan.
You know, to truly love some silly|little piece of music, or some band...
so much that it hurts.
It's Russell.|Donít hang up.
I canít really talk right now.|I'm in a room full of people.
Actually, I'm alone.
I won't call again, I promise.
But I need to see you face to face...
because I'm never as good|as when youíre there...
and I can see myself|the way you look at me.
And I'm sorry. If we could just get|together and find some time to talk.
Let's say all the things|we never said.
Give me your address.
I'm coming to you...
this time.
Got a pen?
I'm Russell Hammond.
So this is the famous Russell Hammond.
Come in.
- Is she home?|- Who? Anita?
- Where am I ?|- Hello?
You know, when we spoke,|I felt that we connected.
Oh, man.
My son is very important to me too...
and I do think you owe him|an apology.
- I appreciate you showing up.|- No, no, I agree...
There's hope for you yet, Russell.
So this is...|where the Enemy sleeps.
You know, I think we both wanted to--|to be with her.
And she wanted us to be together.
You should give her a call.
You both live in the same city.
- You really think I should?|- Yeah.
That girl really cares about you.
Man, I never even knew her real name.
Oh, I called your magazine...
and told them the truth.
I don't know|what they're gonna do with it...
but I told them|every word you wrote was true.
We are gonna do this one more time.
So, Russell...
what do you love about music?
To begin with...
- Tickets!|- How much?
Morocco.|Seat by the window, please.
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