All language subtitles for England.Is.Mine.2017.720p.BluRay.x264-[YTS.AG]

Life.

In this humdrum sense, is worth

avoiding.

It's the factory for the father
and the kitchen for mother.

It's arguments at the dinner table,

missing children on the news.

And through it all, a sense that
things are slowly falling apart.

Is it better to choose another
record and flip the lid on the pills,

and wait for something to happen?

Is it better to turn out the lights

climb under the covers

until sleep invites you to a
world you've always wanted.

Is it better than the one
that's in front of us?

Stop being a mad ass.

Two beers, please.

If you spent as much
time looking for a band

as you do slagging them off,
it could be you up there.

There's a reason...

Oh, come on, Steven, I was
only pulling your pisser.

Should we go to town on Saturday night?

We could go to that new club.

Not been yet.

Yeah but we'll just sit
there, like it's a funeral.

Yeah, we could pretend it's
yours, you'll like that.

I just think that there's
more to life than being...

Right, keep walking.

Pardon?

Keep walking, or you'll get taunted.

Just try and act normal for ten seconds.

You're dickheads.

Have you found a job yet?

No.

Well, you're not going to find
one sitting around on your arse.

There's nothing suitable.

What does that mean?

Something suitable.

Leave him alone.

He's gonna have to find a job some day.

He wants to write.

Write? He can't even write his bloody name.

Why do you always do that?

You are right.

I can't find Roxy.

No, I meant...

They've been like that for years, Angie.

Is it serious?

Do you want to talk about it?

There's no use bottling things up.

Life is too short.

For cliches.

Forget it.

You ever think it could have been awesome.

Buried in the dirt.

Dear enemy,

Manchester is a lovely place.

If you happen to be a
bed-ridden deaf mute.

The local music scene is the
sole preserve of troglodytes

whose regard for
subtlety and variation

is comparable to a pig's
passion for the slaughterhouse.

The performance was
the musical equivalent

of a prolonged bowel movement

followed by an unexpected
absence of toilet paper.

In case I haven't made myself clear,

it wasn't very good.

What about this?

I don't think so.

No it's a good job if you're not fussy.

Here's one.

Girl group seeks moaning minnie.

Now you could do that.

Not funny.

I don't know what I'm meant
to be looking for, do I?

There's no point in dragging me here
every week, just to play the cunt.

Holly-fucking-luya.

Yeah.

Yeah, all right.

Yeah, we will meet you tomorrow.

Great. Okay. Bye.

Got you a date.

Hey, he's quite fit.

Do you think that's him?

Leather jacket, check, red hair, check.

I don't like his shoes.

Just look him in the
eye and don't cock it up.

Just give me a minute.

You're not meeting the fucking Pope.

Should we get out there or what?

We?

I could be your agent.

- Oh my goodness.
- Shall I count to ten?

Ten, nine, eight,

- seven, six, five...
- Fine!

Are you gonna sulk all day?

I'm not sulking.

What are you doing then?

I'm sulking.

You're the one who wouldn't talk to him.

The world is not just gonna come to you.

It might do.

You're ridiculous.

You may as well get a job in ASDA.

What, like you?

Oh, fuck off!

Mommy's boy.

You know, some of us live in the real
world with proper shit to deal with.

I don't need this.

Call me when you've grown a pair.

Look after your mother.

Merry Christmas, hey.

Who's gonna carve your turkey?

Dickhead.

Are you a DJ?

What's with the record, then?

Hey, Lerch, she's talking to you.

What have you done now?

Have you got any plans for lunch, Steven?

Um, yes.

Cancel them.

You're gonna clean up this mess.

Get your shit together.

Nice one, knob jockey.

Get back to work, you two.

If there was ever
a revolution in England,

we'd form an orderly queue

at the guillotine.

Nothing worth doing in
life involves repetition.

It's the mind that matters.

The mind allows us to think

and feel

and see the beauty of things

where others can only see
crank bearings and spark plugs.

My little brother,

climbing that career ladder.

Please.

Chief pencil sharpener.

I'm not even listening.

Just a beer.

Ta.

I owe you an apology.

What for?

Steven Morrissey from Stratford certainly
likes the sound of his own voice.

Someone needed to say it.

Thank you.

You need to use more semicolons.

You write really well

but you shouldn't be afraid
to use more semicolons.

You know, relax the diction,
you're not Jane Austen.

Linder, we're going.

Come to our party.

Come on, we can slag off the bands we hate.

This is Steven.

He's a published writer.

Ah. Fellow Straton. Pleased to meet you.

I'm gonna collect my coat.

Be nice.

So you write then, do you?

Um...

They're just letters, I'm
not really published...

- Ah, a man of letters.
- Or a lettered man.

A lettered man would imply a man
with a PhD or similar, would it not?

Not necessarily.

A lettered man simply means
an academic in the abstract.

Would you rather be a man of letters,

or a lettered man.

You're confusing him now, Gordon.

Ready?

No.

Come on.

These are really...

They're really...

Are you trying to say you like them?

Yes, yeah.

Well...

It will all be for nothing
if I don't get it finished.

I love the silent hour of night,

for blissful dreams may then arise.

Do you have to be somewhere?

Gonna be late for work.

Which is where?

The Inland Revenue.

Is it true they all have webbed feet?

You do know there is more to life

than dark satanic mills.

There was a rambling garden.

Gravestones,

elderberries.

Alfred sat in the pagoda, looking
longingly at his winklepickers.

Sounds like.

Dickens.

Dickens?

Just me.

Steven Patrick Morrissey.

A man who decided to dedicate his life

to working for the tax man.

Where he stamped documents,

and licked envelopes,

beautifully.

Oh, so beautifully.

Seriously, you can't be
happy working in that place.

Oh, I am as merry as the days were long.

You can't beat me.

Shakespeare.

You can't beat me, don't even try it.

Just be yourself.

Everyone else is taken.

Oscar Wilde.

Shit...

Oi.

She's hot, ain't she?

Oh, no.

I use her shit for toothpaste.

Let me take you in, and show you everybody.

Haha!

The wanderer returns.

How many days has it been?

It is six.

We'll discuss it later.

Now I would like to introduce
you all to Christine.

Christine is going to be
shadowing young Steven.

And keeping an eye on him, I expect.

So Steven, if you would like
to give Christine the tour,

show her how things are done around here.

Is that okay, Steven?

You don't say much, do you?

If you want me to help with
anything, just let me know.

Do you have any bullets?

What?

So do you have much auditioning experience?

I keep a list of people I dislike.

Terry seems nice.

- Terry?
- Mr. Leonard.

Well, if you like men who have a
penchant for arcane numerical systems...

- Do you always talk like that?
- What?

Like what?

By using big words.

Your voice is sort of funny. You're
not, like, posh. Are you from Bolton?

Hello.

May I see Steven?

Who is it?

There is a girl at the door to see Dierdre.

Eh, was he expecting you?

Linder. No, he's not expecting me.

Might as well go on up, love.

You'll have to bang on the door.

Hold on.

What are you doing here?

Was that you?

Mmm, no...

I thought you said we were meeting in town.

Christ.

It's like a museum in here.

You're gonna put the kettle on then?

We don't wanna be late though.

Nobody watches the support bands.

I do.

Milk and two sugar, Steven.

Just, just, just...

Please don't touch anything.

I won't.

Right.

Do you think you can
hand some of these out?

I don't think that's your target audience.

I told you.

Think big, Shakespeare.

Think you've got an admirer.

Oh, God.

You know him?

I think he plays guitar.

He certainly knows you.

Just stop staring at him.

Excuse me, mate. Have we met before?

You're not in a band or anything?

No, he's not yet. You?

Well, trying to get something together.

- I'm Billy,
- Linder.

This is mute here is Steven.

Got a light?

This is my mate, Johnny.

Are you in his band?

Nah, I can't sing.

Well, here we go.

- Maybe see you in there.
- Maybe.

What?

Steven, what are you waiting for?

Just do something, take a chance.

Even cavemen wrote their name on a wall.

How's the world going
to remember you? Write.

Sing. Just don't moan about it when
it's someone else's name they remember.

I love that record.

He writes some great lyrics, Strummer.

What do you like about them?

Strummer's lyrics, I'm interested to know.

Don't you find him rather schematic
in his self-flagellating world view?

White Riot's good song.

When you're ready, mate.

I'll make us a bread.

Stick the Clash on if you want.

It's not all of whatever you said.

My mom loves this sort of stuff.

Mine too.

You're late.

Again.

Anything you'd like to say?

Not really. No.

I don't know what you think you're doing,

but you're coasting.

You can't waltz in here
any time that suits,

pick up your pay check

and fuck off at 5:00!

It's not the way it works.

Why can't you be more like everyone else?

Right.

I want those files shifted.

And don't make me repeat any of this again.

Which files?

What?

You're not going to jump, are you?

- No, no...
- What's this?

- It's nothing.
- Doesn't look like nothing.

I'm sick of being an undiscovered genius.

Please just give it back.

What are these, poems?

No, they're not.

It is becoming more
apparent now as I get older

that everyone is an imbecile except me.

Oh, my God.

Christine...

Wait till I tell everyone.

Christine.

Under one condition.

What, can this wait?

You promised.

Yes, but...

I have absolutely nothing
to do with this creature.

Do you promise not to
think any worse of me?

- Uh, no. Hiya!
- Hiya.

Steven.

Oh, Christine, um...

Linder, this is Christine.

Christine is an esteemed cohort in
the business of petty and dignity.

Tonight, I'll see you as well?

Why not?

Looking out for you...

I wouldn't have him any other way.

What's wrong with her tits?

It's from my exhibition.

It's art, is it?

Yeah.

I'm not sure I understand it.

Well, maybe you could come along.

And Steven could explain it to you.

You know, he writes poetry.

She doesn't understand that either.

Cheeky twat.

I think I'll leave you two to...

No. You don't have to.

Come on, what do you feel like eating?

I don't care.

As long as it's poisonous.

You cunt!

Dear lord, what happened to you?

Think I'm ready for the electric shock.

All right. One minute.

Ready?

What do you think that means?

Whatever you want it to mean.

What does that mean?

What I just said.

Come and have a look at this!

I found a picture of a cock.

As you can see, these
are extraordinary works.

Our students are the future of
Manchester's thrilling artistic scene.

But, as every artist knows,

it's hard to resit the pull of the capitol.

And, we're delighted to announce,

That Linder's exhibition
will travel to London.

Thank you.

I need a drink.

Ooh, are we getting pissed?

I'm really very happy for you.

You deserve it.

You don't look it.

Will you be gone long?

As long as it takes.

Billy!

Steve.

Sorry, mate. Didn't
mean to crash the party.

Your mom said you'd be here, so...

Fuck me, I need to stop smoking.

Billy, why are you here?

What would you say, if I told
you we were joining a band,

and we got ourselves a gig?

I'd say, Billy, get off the drugs.

Then call me Bob fucking Marley.

I know this band, The Nosebleeds,

they suddenly find
themselves shy of a singer,

a guitarist, and some decent tunes.

So I said we'd do it.

It's brilliant.

It's a double celebration,
I'll get us some more drinks.

You don't look too happy about it.

Why is everybody concerned
with my happiness?

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Hey!

What are we celebrating?

She's adorable.

In a bovine kind of way.

I've never been to a gallery before.

Did you just see what they were wearing?

If only we could make an effort.

You know, I just can't see
the point of university.

Do you know how much I would love a job?

- You have a job.
- What, that?

No.

No, I'm only giving it another few months.

I want a career change.

You know, our Tracy's gonna
get us a job in fashion.

Do you think I'd be good at that?

I do.

Some of the girls tonight were
dressed like blokes, did you see that?

Your girlfriend dresses well.

She's not my girlfriend.

Piss off.

You're like two peas in a fucking pod.

She's got a great rack
though, I'll give her that.

Oh, God.

It's getting cold, isn't it?

No.

So when's this gig then?

You know we're all gonna
come to that, don't you?

Please don't.

Look, is it much further?

No.

It's just up here.

Well, good night, Christine.

You got to walk me to the front door
otherwise you're not a gentleman.

So...

Do you want to come in then?

I don't think so.

Oh, come on.

Mr. Hard to Get.

Oi, Steve-o!

Right, here we go.

Are you happy?

I think so, yes.

Should I be?

You owned the room, Shakespeare.

You were the room.

What's this?

The big time.

Some London manager,

talked about tours and recording,

I can't fucking believe it, man.

One fucking gig.

- See you later, Steve-o!
- Right.

Come on, boys.

Remember the date, and smile.

You too, Steven.

I said you'd be back in on Monday.

Yes but did you have to say I had diarrhea?

I've run out of excuses.

So...

Tell me all about it.

I've never experienced
anything like it before.

And now I know how you must
feel when you do your knitting.

You skivvying off again.

I've got far more important
things to consider.

Like what?

Tell her about your gig.

It went really well.

Great.

So can I take today off
'cause I don't like Thursdays?

It's not like I want to spend
my life stocking shelves.

Well, I hate to break
it to you, Jacqueline,

the way things are looking,

it looks like there might be one
less worker bee in the Morrissey hive.

What's this?

Studio time.

Gigs, stardom.

This is in London.

And?

And what is plan B if
that doesn't work out?

My alphabet has only one letter.

What? D for dickhead.

Just because the height of your ambition

is aisle five, doesn't mean that I'm
gonna slum it here for the rest of my life.

What are you talking about?

Once they discover my genius,
it's inevitable I'll move.

You've done one gig.

That's enough, you two.

I don't have to listen to this.

Clean up on aisle five.

Clean up on aisle five.

No?

All right.

Here, mate.

We talked last week.

We were fucked by your
third song, but still.

This a private meeting
or can anybody join in?

Did you know Steve was in a band?

No, no, I didn't, no.

And I don't care. Get back to
your desk and start working.

I sometimes feel like
the subject of a Lowry painting.

I've never wanted to paint anything.

But look at these walls.

Returning to the real world

is like stepping into a cold shower.

Where the dress code is smart...

Where the hell is he now?

And the people less so.

Lazy bastard.

And your ambition
is to start each day

and still exist by the end of it.

At least Lowry had smog.

We've got nothing to choke on.

This is what you call
the records room, is it?

On the fucking roof!

I was actually...

Yeah, I know exactly what
you're get up to up here.

Writing bollocks about
what fucking idiots we are!

Well, I'll tell you one thing, Steven.

What goes around, comes around.

What are you writing now?

It's none of your business.

I'll be the judge of that.

Fine.

Fine. You get back to your desk.

I'll deal with this after lunch.

You make a note in your fucking book.

Morrissey.

Right.

You know why you're here?

I'm not paying you to
write in your notebook.

Or be in a pop band.

I'm paying you to work.

But it's not just that, Steven.

Your attitude stinks.

You're never at your desk at 9:00,

if you're here at all.

And when you are in,
your mind is elsewhere.

I don't owe you a living, Steven.

But,

I'm a fair man.

You know that.

So, I thought,

I would give you one more opportunity

to convince me that
things are going to change.

You can't live two lives.

Work, or music.

What's it gonna be?

Ah, the famous Steve Morrissey.

I'm not gonna miss you.

Liar.

So...

Did you jump, or were you pushed?

Creative differences.

Just when I was going
to shoot you in the head.

I'm sorry to disappoint.

What time is the train?

We've got plenty of time.

Are you worried?

London belongs to me.

As I wandered thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,

And mark in every face I meet.

Marks of weakness,

Marks of woe.

I can't remember the rest.

In every cry of every man...

You see, what am I gonna do without you?

Die.

Lonely and depressed.

Give it a rest, will you?

Some of us have still work to go to.

- Hello.
- Hi, Billy.

Steven.

It's...

I dropped off a tape.

- I got it.
- And what do you think?

It's really good, mate.

I was thinking that maybe we should
be the ones that demo for the manager.

- He called me this morning.
- Oh great! Did he...

Did he say when we were going?

Billy?

I'm sorry, Steve.

They just want me to go.

But I don't understand.

They want a new
guitarist for this band.

It's all lined up.

And yeah.

I'm sorry, Steve.

I don't know what to say.

I can't turn it down.

Steve? Are you still there?

Yes, still here.

I can't turn it down, mate.

I know.

Anyway, look, you
remember my mate, Johnny?

Well, he's looking
to start something.

So I mentioned you.

I'll give you his number.

Have you got a pen?

I'll get one.

Mum said you'd forget.

- What?
- Doctor's appointment.

You can't just lock yourself away.

Okay.

You've been in here for six weeks.

- Seven.
- I'm being serious.

- Steven.
- What?

Mum's worried.

When is it?

Twenty minutes.

I don't think these are gonna help.

Tell me what the doctor said.

Did you explain how you were feeling?

Are you hungry?

I'll make you some food.

So what's it like down there then?

Well...

I live in a shoe box, and all
anyone talks about is hammers.

When are you coming?

Soon.

You'd clean up down here, there's
loads of people you could meet.

You should come down.

I should, shouldn't I?

Yes.

Check the train guide.

I will.

If you need, I'll
lend you the money.

So...

Anything new happening up there?

There's a new bag of cement in the cellar.

I was planning my visit...

You know Billy's playing
in Manchester next month?

He always asks about you.

And?

And I told him you're
writing your obituary.

Anyway, he said he'd put
you on the guest list.

Hello? Are you even listening to me?

Not really. No.

Are you all right, Shakespeare?

You sound lost.

Now, I can see where I'm going.

- How are you?
- Thanks for coming.

Right.

How is he? Any change?

I'm running out of ideas.

Well, if it helps,

there's a job going on at the hospital.

I could put in a word.

The most used noun in
the English language is time.

And I'm running out of it.

You win, Christine.

You've won.

Some of us want to dream
and keep on dreaming.

Think of us.

And protect us.

The lion and the lamb
shall lie down together.

Down together we go.

Look at the state here.

I'll take the job.

What?

The hospital job. I...

I need the money, I
want to see Linder, so...

Everything all right?

Is Linder still enjoying London?

You could have probably get
there and back ten times by now.

Steven.

Were you a friend?

Life.

In its humdrum sense is worth

avoiding.

It's the factory for the father,

and the kitchen for mother.

It's arguments at the dinner table.

Missing children on the news.

And through it all, a sense that
things are slowly falling apart.

Is it better to
choose another record

to flip the lid on the pills

and wait for something to happen?

Is it better to turn out the lights,

climb under the covers,

until sleep invites you to a
world you've always wanted.

Is it better than the one
that's in front of us?

I like what you've done to the place.

I really don't know how to carry on, Mum.

I remember when you first heard this.

We couldn't get you down off the table.

Do you remember why I bought you this?

Mmm-hmm.

And the books, and the typewriter.

It's just not me anymore.

Then who are you?

Are you the boy who stood
on the table and sang to me

or are you just like everyone else?

Giving up,

with nothing to say.

I've tried, Mum.

It's not like I haven't tried.

What else am I supposed to do?

The world, it's just not
built for people like me.

Then create your own world, Steven.

You'll get there.

I know you will.

But only when you realize

you have a choice.

Not everyone's so lucky.

You are the only version
of yourself in existence.

There is no replica of you.

You just have to be who you are.

Isn't that worth life?

- Yeah?
- Mmm.

- Okay.
- Okay.

You could have at least
torn the wallpaper down.

Anything else?

That's one pound, 50, please.

The past is

everything I have failed to be.

It was the ease of doing nothing

over the fear of doing something.

Do I carry those defeats

and emerge with a flag of victory?

It could be the start of something.

Even though the world does not
want your dance and your glitter.

Men were born to pray and save.

Romantic England's dead and gone.

It's with Jane Austen in the grave.

I'm afraid that there's not
much demand for pop stars

in the Stratford area.

And can you even sing?

Now,

Ringway Airport, looking
for car park attendants.

Fine.

Meat packing in a grocery store?

Ah. Bricklayers.

People always need houses, Steven.

Job for a life, is that.

Do you ever wake up and think,

"I wonder if I could have been a poet."

What?

Do you think,

that if you tried,

just a little bit harder

that you could have made it.

That maybe, instead of...

All this,

you could have gone down in history.

Steven...

It's me interviewing you,
not the other way around.

Manchester's first Nobel laureate.

Look, son.

You might think it's okay to quit your job.

But there are two million other blokes
out there who are looking for work,

so I suggest that you stop
pointing your finger out,

and stop wasting my bloody time.

You can do it, sir.

I believe in you.

Oh...

And if you ever do find a
bricklayer floating in the Irwell,

it'll be me.

I'm heading in to work. You want something?

You're sure that's enough?

Make sure you eat something
today that isn't toast.

But I like toast.

You all right?

I'm Johnny.

I got your address off Billy.

Look, you probably
don't remember me, but...

I do.

I play a bit, and...

Can I come in?

Have you read all these?

Mmm-hmm.

Some top stuff in here.

They don't make stuff like this anymore.

You know what I mean?

Would you like to play one?

All right.

Would you care for some toast?

Yeah.

Cheers.

So? 1:00 then?

1:00.

Shit! Almost forgot.

Billy said these are yours?

See you tomorrow.