All language subtitles for Velvet Goldmine (1988)

Histories, like ancient ruins,
are the fictions of empires.

While everything forgotten
hangs in dark dreams of the past,

ever threatening to return.

Lord'n heaven!

Madame Wilde! Richard! Come quickly!

I want to be a farmer.

I want to be a barrister.

I want to be a truck-driver.

I want to be... a pop-idol.

Get him, get him!

Leave him!

Childhood, adults always say,
is the happiest time in life.

But as long as he could
remember, Jack Fairy knew better.

Until one mysterious day, when Jack would
discover that somewhere there were others...

...quite like him.

Singled out for a great gift.

And one day...

...the whole stinking world...

...would be theirs.

Hey!

Look! It's Jack Fairy.

Who's Jack Fairy?

"The streets of London are ablaze in
sparkle make-up and glittering frocks..."

"... as the boys and girls of the current glam-rock
craze pay tribute to their patron saint..."

"pop-star Brian Slade"

"... and his space-age rock
persona - Maxwell Demon."

"Yeah, Brian Slade, he's just so different. I
mean, I've never seen anyone quite like him."

"And 'Lipstick Traces', his last album
was just... it was just something special."

"It's an album that's like, appealing
to so many people like that."

"A palpable whirl of anticipation can be
felt outside London's Lyceum Theatre..."

"... as fans await the final show
on Slade's smash world tour."

"Security around the performer is tightened
following a recent BBC interview..."

"... in which he admitted to premonitions
of being assassinated on stage."

Turn it off!

"... any of his enthusiastic
and colorful followers..."

"... some of whom have been queuing
here since late last night."

Brian, the time!

Ladies and Gentlemen!

The Lyceum Theatre.

In cooperation with "Bijou Music"...

...is proud to present

straight back from their fantastically
successful European tour...

Maxwell Demon and The Venus in Furs!

Put out the torches! Hide
the moon! Hide the stars!

For once, there was an unknown land...

full of strange flowers
and subtle perfumes.

A land of which it is joy
of all the joys to dream.

A land where all things are perfect.

And poisonous.

"It appears today's youngsters
have fashioned a whole new bent..."

"... on the so-called sexual
liberation of the flower-power set."

"The long hair and the love-beads
have given way to glitter make-up..."

"... platform shoes..."

"... and a whole new taste for glamour,
nostalgia and just plain outrageousness."

"Is London not shocked?"

"London is improving."

"Well, I think it's a disgrace."

"Parading around all ponced-up
like a pack of bleeding woofters."

"Bloody hell! What will
they think of next?"

"And heading up this flash stampede is
none other that pop-giant Brian Slade..."

"whose stylish escapades have paved the way
for a whole new breed of performing artists..."

"... from Curt Wild and The Flaming
Creatures to Jack Fairy and Polly Small."

"Thanks to Slade, today's youngsters
are singing a whole new tune."

"So, you're saying you're bisexual?"

"Yeah. I like boys, I like girls."

"They are all great. No
difference, is there?"

"Mr. BBC"

"Rock music has always been a
reaction to accepted standards."

"And homosexuality has been
going on for centuries, yeah."

"At the moment, having
a gay image is 'in'."

"You know, just like a few years
ago it was trendy to wear a..."

"... a long grey coat with a Led
Zeppelin record under your arm."

"Everyone is into this scene, because it
is supposedly the thing to do right now."

"But you just can't fake being gay, you know.
If you're gonna claim that you're gay..."

"... you're gonna have to
make love in gay-style and..."

"... most of these kids
just aren't gonna make it."

"That line - 'Everyone's bisexual' - it's
a very popular thing to say right now."

"But personally I
think it's meaningless."

"I knew I should create a
sensation", gasped the Rocket.

And he went out.

Ok, Lionel. That's it. Thanks.

I don't get it.

What don't you get? It was a
stunt. The guy faked his own murder.

- Yeah, but why?
- Publicity.

Arthur, any recollection?

Of what?

Of this Slade fellow.

Well, he's an early
70s glam-rock singer.

Told you we could count on
"Mr. Old Time Rock'n'Roll".

Yeah.

Count on me for what?

I thought I was on the Reynolds trip.

Well you are.

But the president
isn't due until the 8th.

And I need a piece
for the Weekender now.

Great.

Next week is the 10th year anniversary
of the whole shooting stunt incident.

I'd like you to find out what
happened, where he is today.

"What ever happened to Brian Slade?" Ok?

Yeah, and naturally you want me for this,
because I'm the resident Brit. Right?

Nah. No, no, no. I want
you, because you remember.

"President Reynolds is urging
young people everywhere..."

"to sign up in their local government
offices and join the committee..."

Because I remember.

Suddenly I was being paid to remember all the
things that money, the future and the serious life...

had made so certain I'd forget.

And for what?

Some meaningless prank, a decade old.

Why was is suddenly up
to me to figure it out?

Clearly there was something.

Something from the
past, spooking me back.

I didn't realise at
the time... It was you.

"Thank you 'Trans-Electric' and 'CRA'."

"'Micro Atlanta' and 'Dupree'
for their generous support."

"Thanks to president Reynold's
'Committee for Cultural Renewal'...

"... for making this brodcast
possible. And thanks to you."

"Three billion viewers tuning in
right now on global satellite".

"Yesterday upon the stair, I
saw a man who wasn't there."

"He wasn't there again today.
How I wish he'd go away."

Ten years.

Ten years and the world had
changed so completely that...

that the life I'd led in England
seemed like someone else's life.

Someone else's story. Anyone's but mine.

"There were times, when it
appeared to Dorian Gray..."

"... that the whole of history was
merely a record of his own life."

"Not as he had lived it
in act and circumstance..."

"... but as his imagination
had created it for him..."

"... as it had been in his
brain and in his passions."

"He felt that he had known them all...

"those strange terrible figures that
had passed along the stage of life..."

"and made sin so marvelous
and evil, so full of subtlety."

"It seemed that in some mysterious
way their lives had been his own."

Can you lend us a couple of
quid? I've got money at home.

You must be mental.

- Oh please, I swear I've got it.
- Piss off!

Thanks!

- What's it for?
- Nothing.

Give it here then. Let's have a look.

Bloody nora! Our kid's
one of them pansy rockers.

- He's a fucking puff, that one.
- No, he's not.

That's naff.

You're disgusting. You know that?

I'm just going out for a bit.

"Today in London officials
confirmed that the shooting

on the 5th of February
of singer Brian Slade..."

"... at London's Lyceum Theatre
was a publicity stunt..."

"mounted by the singer's
company Bijou Music Limited."

"Manager Jerry Divine announced today that
his company meant no harm in their escapades."

"That it was intended
solely as entertainment."

"Very unfortunate, very sad and
unfortunate that in this day and age...

"... an artist's quest for artistic
freedom should cost him his career."

- Warum, denken Sie?
- Why do you think?

"I dunno."

"I dunno. It got too big, I guess.
Too... got too schizoid, you know."

"I mean... he thought he fucking was
Maxwell Demon in the end, you know?"

"And Maxwell Demon...
he thought he was God."

Brian Slade? Oh yes.

Quite well.
Once upon a time.

So...?

So, what was he... what was he... like?

Who's that? Brian?

Yeah.

Like nothing I'd ever seen before.

And in the end... like
nothing he appeared.

He was... elegance, walking
arm in arm with lie.

His real name, in fact, was Thomas.

And his father owned a small tiling
business in suburban Birmingham.

But Brian never cared
much for the suburbs.

As a young boy, he had the rare fortune of
spending a summer in London with his aunt.

A figure of some ill repute in the Slade
family, after she married a cockney...

in the entertainment field and
followed him off to Deptford.

Brian's tender introduction
to the theatrical underworld...

would leave a dramatic impression.

So what are you? A mod or a rocker?

Six of one, half a dozen
of the other, really.

Taking their cue from Little Richard, the
swank London mods � short for modernists �

were the first to wear
mascara and lacquer their hair.

The first true Dandies of pop...

and known to just about any indiscretion,
where a good suit was involved.

All right, lads?

Style... always wins out in the end.

Cheers!

For Brian, the mods were
a glamorous call to arms.

Or at least to London,
where three years later...

at the Sombrero Club in Kensington, I
would hear him sing for the very first time.

Everything, it seemed,
started at the Sombrero.

No club in London had
more notorious sway.

And there, at the centre of it
was Brian's American wife, Mandy...

who's dramatic transformation to London party
girl was a constant source of amusement to us all.

You all know me. Subtlety
is my middle name.

It's as subtle as the piece of skin
between my vagina and my anus � ooh la! la!

Now what's is that called, does
anyone remember what that's called?

No man's land! Oh
gosh, my geesh, darling!

Now, ladies of and
gentlemen, boys and girls.

And whomever else who may
be in the house this evening.

It is my supreme pleasure...

to introduce all you lovely
little minxes here tonight...

to the Sombrero Club's prettiest star...

and my most shimmering hubby!

I give you Brian Slade!

Say, have a look at Miss Beautiful"!

- Have a look at the homosexual!
- A slut, mates, a slut in fancy clothes!

- Who is he?
- Some scrubber my dear, I do assure you.

- But not that scruffy, as I last recall.
- Ooh, you're wicked.

He won't be home tonight.

So, I introduced myself.

Told him I was developing my own management
company and on the look-out for new talent.

He introduced me to his wife,
asked me what sign I was...

and before the week was out,
we were signing contracts.

You see, Brian believed in the future.

He despised the hypocrisy of the
"peace and love" generation...

and felt his music spoke far more
to its orphans and its outcasts.

His revolution, he used to
say, will be a sexual one.

But in 1970, rock audiences bred on...

Credence Clearwater and the Beatles...

were not entirely sure what to make
of this particular brand of revolt.

Somehow he got it into his head
that he had to perform in a frock.

Don't ask me why. I mean, I thought it was
a bit naughty, a bit of a giggle, but...

- Who's this geezer, then? -Some
shirt-lifter from Birmingham.

Get the fuck off! Cut the shite!

- Bugger off, you woofter!
- Fuck off!

Darling? Darling, you were fabulous!

Every bit! I was beaming,
truly, like someone's mum.

And they adored you! The whole lot
- transported!

Transported!? We went down
like a fucking knackered lift!

Brian, I tell you, I think it's
simply a matter of presentation.

- And with the proper
back-up... -Back-up?

What happened to Judy Garland!? What happened
to all your bloody torch song rubbish!?

I know, I know, in a cabaret, but in the context of a rock
show, I can see now, it's just a little bit more dodgy.

The act was there, wasn't it?
The act was there. Just a...

Brian!

Lead singer and founder of the
greatest garage band know to mankind...

CURT WILD!

Curt Wild, founder of the
influential garage band The Rats...

came from the aluminium
trailer parks of Michigan...

where rock folklore claims
far more primitive origins.

According to legend, when Curt was 13, he was
discovered by his mother in the family loo...

"servicing" his older brother...

and promptly shipped off for
18 months of schock treatment.

The doctors guaranteed the treatment
would fry the fairy clean out of him.

But all it did was make him bonkers...
every time he heard electric guitar.

They despised him.

Yeah.

But when you're abused like that...
you know you've touched the stars.

I know. I just... I
just wish it'd been me.

Wish I'd thought of it.

You will, luv. You will.

- Nice stuff.
- Thanks.

Devine. Jerry Devine. Personal
management. I'm interested.

Oh, well, thank you, but I
already have management. He's...

Not in my opinion.

The truth is you have
talent. That's obvious.

But it doesn't really matter
much what a man does in his life.

What matters... is the legend
that grows up around him.

Today, you're a talented
singer. That's all right.

- I can make you a star.
- And just how do you propose to do that?

I will tell you, sir...

When you pin me.

I've never in all my life...

May the best man win.

Earlier tonight, on the popular chart show
'Top of the Pops', newcomer Brian Slade...

performed his hit single
'The Whole Shebang'...

dressed in platform boots and
wearing glitter eye make-up.

A spokesman for the show, known for
showcasing pop's brightest stars...

says they've been deluged
with calls all evening.

The next day every schoolgirl in
London was wearing glitter eye make-up.

And I was out of a bleeding job.

And that, as they say, was that.

I would not hear
another word from Brian -

or any of them for that matter
- ever again.

Have you got any idea what ultimately
happened to him? I mean, where is he today?

Last I heard he'd returned
to Birmingham, but...

this was three years ago? Four?

No, I'm sorry, I'm afraid
I can't help you there.

- Looks as though it may be unavoidable.
- What's that.

The ex, I'm afraid.

But then ever story needs
a contrary opinion...

and with Mandy you're
guaranteed excesses of both.

- Miss Slade?
- Yeah?

I'm Arthur Stuart, from the
Herald. We spoke on the phone.

Anyway, I've just got a few questions I
wanted to ask. It shouldn't take too long.

Do you mind if I sit down?

It's a free country. Sort of.

So, what are you having?

Scotch. Rocks.

Yeah, make that two.

Gee. You must be after
some damn exclusive copy.

Well, it's a piece on Brian Slade.

- What, sort of a memory jog kind of thing?
- Yeah.

Well it's been, ten years since
the whole... fake shooting incident.

Oh, and what a fake it was. Tricking us all
in the end with such an authentic demise.

His career, you mean?

I mean, have you got any idea what
happened to him or where he is today?

Can't you just, run him through
the files? Punch in the name?

No, not exactly.

Because, honestly darling...

I haven't spoken with Mr Slade in...

seven years. At least.
- Seven years? Wow.

- Wow. Yeah. At least. Smoke?
- No thanks.

No, right after everything
crashed, we.. we split.

And Brian, he just...

became someone else.

But again, he always was.

That's 10 bob to you, mate.

It was New Year's Eve 1969,
the start of a new decade...

and everywhere you went there
was this sense of the future,

the feeling in the air
that anything was possible.

See, Jack Fairy had also come to
London in the swinging sixties.

And in crowded clubs or hotel bars,
this shipwreck of the streets...

rehearsed his future glory.

A cigarette tracing
a ladder to the stars.

"Maricon, �pic�ne, sexe douteux"

"Le Vice Anglais"

I needn't mention how
essential dreaming is...

to the character of the rock star.

Jack, darling!

Jack was truly the first of his kind. A
true original. Everybody stole from Jack.

But from the moment Brian Slade stepped into
our lives, nothing would ever be the same.

It was his nature.

Do you jive?

So... I married him.

Times, places, people...

They're all speeding up.

So to cope with this
evolutionary paranoia...

strange people are chosen...

who, through their art, can
move progress more quickly.

It was the most stimulating and
reflective period of our marriage.

"Thank you and welcome, pop
pickers, to 'Pick of the Pops'."

"I'm Davy Rocket and we have a
very special show for you today..."

"dedicated to one of pop's
blazing new talents..."

"and one who's been holding a virtual reign over the British
charts for a startling record breaking 18-month span."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give
you the incomparable Brian Slade."

"Or should I say... Maxwell Demon."

The bloke at the front.

Brian, why the make-up?

Why? Because rock and roll's a prostitute!
It should be tarted up! Performed!

The music is the mask, while I, in my
chiffon and taff, well, varda the message.

Brian, Brian!

Bloke in the suit there.

What about your fans? Aren't they
likely to get the... wrong impression?

- And which wrong impression is that?
- Well, that you're a blinking fruit!

Well thank you, sir, and no, it
doesn't concern me in the least.

I should think that if people were
to get that impression of me...

the one to which you
so eloquently refer...

it would not be a wrong impression in the
slightest. -That is me, that's me dad, that's me!

I mean, everybody knows
most people are bisexual.

Any more questions?

Yeah, woman with the beret.

I was under the impression that you
were married and living North London...

I am married. Quite happily, in fact.

I just happen to like boys
as much as I like girls.

And seeing as my wife feels pretty
much the same about such things...

I should think we've been able to
make a fairly decent go of it so far.

Alright, any more questions?
Okay, thank you very much.

For the first time in Brian's life,
he was simply telling it like it was.

Did he realize what he'd actually done?

How could he have? I mean today,
there'd be fighting in the streets.

But in 1972... it was more like dancing.

That man, sitting over
there in the white suit...

is the biggest thing to come out of
this country since sliced Beatles.

Outside this country, no
one knows who the hell he is.

You people, you're
gonna change all that.

You guys, you're the
actors. It's up to you...

to change Brian Slade, pop singer, into
Maxwell Demon, space-age fucking superstar!

Nothing fantastic about it. Why?

Because the secret of becoming a star...

is knowing how to behave like one.

- Hey kids, let's put on a show!
- Precisely.

Action!

Cut! Cut! Cut! Cut! Sort him out!

I know it's unprecedented, I
know it's unorthodox, but sir...

if you want Brian Slade,
those are the terms.

You may take them or leave them.

- Yes? -I'm Shannon Hazelbourne. -Who?
- I rang up about the position. -The what?

- Assistant Clerical Aid?
- Oh, the position. Fine. Brilliant. Follow me!

- Hurray! Zounds!
- Now, Shannon, I realize of course...

your talents lie within
the clerical art...

but I was wondering, by chance if
you had any experience with wardrobe?

No, never.

- Fantastic. I think that's everything.
- No, I said I didn't.

Everybody! I'd like to introduce...

you to our lovely new Wardrobe Mistress.

- Shannon.
- Shannon. Welcome Shannon!

Excellent! Yes, Mr Weinberg!

Thank you very much indeed, sir. Cheers!

- Extraordinary!
- What Jerry? What?

So tell me, Master Demon... Who
would you most fancy meeting...

in America?

- Ah, bravo! Jerry! Garbo, Brian,
please! -Brando for me. -Einstein.

- Very sorry chickee. He's dead.
- Jerry said anyone.

Brian? Who?

Curt Wild. I want to meet Curt Wild.

And meet Curt Wild we did.

- Mr Wild? -Yeah? -I'm Rodney from
Electra. I have Brian Slade here...

from England who just wanted to pop
over, say hello. -I just wanted to say...

I think your music is tops.
Really, smashing. Best of the lot.

Smashing... top of... jolly... shit.

Sorry, darling.

Now at that time, Curt Wild was
between management and Brian knew this..

of course, and urged Devine
to pursue the situation.

And so if, in that probability,
an interest arose...

in which Brian would serve on some
projects, possibly, though not exclusively...

as... we're taking our
lead from you here, Curt...

possibly as producer on that project.

How might that scenario,
purely hypothetically...

how might that scenario
appeal to you at this juncture?

What Jerry's trying to say is do you
want to come to London to cut a record?

Oh, yeah. Cool.

- Very good!
- But how can we help you?

You must tell us. What do you need?

Everything.

See, heroin was my mainman. But now I'm on
the methadone and I'm getting my act together.

You come here and say you wanna
help and I say, hey, far out.

You could be my mainman.

It was pretty clear what was
happening. It happens every day.

But for the world to think
it was happening, well...

That was Jerry's particular genius.

Right away he started promoting the two of
them like a pair of 40s starlets on the swoon.

A Tracy and Hepburn for the 70s.

My career was on the skids, mate.

And you fished me out of the muck.
You got me back on my feet, you did.

It was nothing, chum.
I wanted to help you...

make more of that far out sound. I
love your music, my son, and I love...

You don't have to say it, mate.

Every great century that produces art
is, so far, an artificial century...

and the work that seems the most
natural and simple of its time...

is always the result of the
most self-conscious effort.

I am not really myself except
in the midst of elegant crowds...

at the heart of rich districts...

or amid the sumptuous
ornamentation of palace hotels...

an army of servants and
a plush carpet underfoot...

What is true about music is true about
life: that beauty reveals everything...

because it expresses nothing.

The first duty in life
is to assume a post.

What the second duty is
no one has yet found out.

The Aesthete Gives
Characteristically Cynical Evidence...

Replete with Pointed Epigram
and Startling Paradox...

while Explaining His
Views on Morality in Art.

Brian, Brian!

Maxwell Demon is the story of a space
creature, who becomes a rock and roll messiah...

only to be destroyed by his own success.

Are you saying this is your
destiny? Are you Maxwell Demon?

Man is least himself, when
he talks in his own person!

- Give him a mask and he'll tell you the truth!
- Brian! Brian!

Is it your belief that
all dandies are homosexual?

Ha! Nothing makes one so vain
as being told one is a sinner!

Hey! Coming through! Coming through!
Hey guys. Watch out! Excuse me!

- Coming through. Careful now! There you go.
- Tell us Brian!

Are the rumours true that say you and Curt
Wild have some sort of plans up your sleeve?

Oh, yes! Quite soon we actually
plan to take over the world.

Excuse me, fellas, while I raise a
glass to the loveliest man in Europe!

And they tell you it's not natural!

The world is changed because
you are made of ivory and gold.

The curves of your lips rewrite history.

This is too much!

Jim! What are you gonna do? Jim!

Could you conceivably turn down that
blasted... Arthur! Arthur, open this door!

You bring shame to this house. You
bring shame to your mother and me.

It's a shameful, filthy
thing you're doing...

Do you hear me? Stand up!

It's funny how beautiful people look
when they're walking out the door.

Really Shannon, it's
no problem, honestly.

I'm not fussed about it, I'm quite open about it.
I was having a fabulous time last night myself.

Really luv.

You shouldn't let it upset you
so. Brian is a grown man and...

fully capable of shagging
whatever he fancies and...

exceedingly partial to the practice.

Now, just because
someone sees, you know...

...two naked people
asleep in bed together...

...it doesn't necessarily
prove sex was involved.

It does, however, make
for a very strong case.

But you're a sweet, sensitive
darling to be so broken up about it.

Brian would be absolutely
chuffed to know that you...

Don't you ever dare tell Brian!

Swear to me you'll
never say a word. Ever.

I swear.

Jesus!

Sudden change in plans.
Brief holiday, much needed.

Back by Hammersmith.

B.

That was it.

Look I'm sorry. I wish I could help you
more. You seem like a nice guy. I just...

...don't think I have
what you're looking for.

See... I think you do actually.

Oh yeah? And what makes you think so?

Well that smile, for one thing.

Well, smiles lie.

Exactly.

Listen. Once, of course, it
was a gorgeous gorgeous time.

We were all... living our dreams.

But you see all that went away.

All of it.

With Curt.

And not even the real Curt. I mean, it was
this... idea of Curt more than anything, this...

...image. Which, of course, nobody
could ever possibly live up to.

I mean Maxwell Demon, Curt
Wild. They were fictions!

Somewhere along the way, Brian
seemed to get lost in the lie.

- Shit!
- Cut it.

Should I stop it?

- He's gonna hit the bridge a half-verse
early. -Now you're simply wasting tape.

Alright. Cut it.

What? What? Is there a problem?

- Again.
- What? What?

- Sorry, Curt, but it appears...
- What?

Curt, we only ask that when
you decide to make a change...

...you simply inform us in advance, so
Eton here is properly prepared, otherwise...

What the fuck are you talking about man?

I didn't make any fucking changes!

Brian?

Fucking mother fucker! Mother fucker, you're a mother
fucker! Fuck you! Fuck you, mother fucker! Fuck you!!

Eton! Eton, please!

Brian, I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this,
but what started off as an interesting experiment...

has quite frankly descended into a
demeaning waste of your time and mine.

- I mean, you've already spent forty
hours studio time... -Thirty-six.

Whatever! Thirty-six hours studio
time on two, three bloody cuts!

Brian, you seem to forget, you're a very big star now and
I think your time is worth a great deal more than this -

Fucking space-queen on your fucking high horse!
And all your fucking henchmen! Fuck you, fuck you!

Perhaps it's time for another
little break. Hey fellas?

Give us a stretch.

Jerry?

I can't risk extending
his contract, Brian.

I think it's quite clear why.
I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Piss off! Go on then! Back to
your wolves! Your junkie twerps!

Your bloody shock
treatment! And fuck you too!

Out!
O-U-T.

Well, Brian. I'm afraid that is
completely out of the question.

You are contractually bound to finish
the Maxwell Demon tour as Maxwell Demon.

Jerry, I'm telling you, it's just
getting far too out of hand...

Brian! I realize you're under tremendous strain, but you've
just gotta hang on in there and finish the bloody tour.

You hang on in there.
I'll hang on here. Right?

And then you can do what you want. OK?

Down with Slade!

I don't believe that there is
much of a future to speak of.

- We're in a bit of a decadent spiral, aren't we?
- Sinking fast.

- Big Brother, baby. All the way.
- Which is why we prefer impressions to ideas.

- Situations to subjects.
- Brief flights to sustained ones.

- Exceptions to types.
- And yourself?

Well I'm... I'm just looking
for a room at the moment.

So for one entire day, I
actually think Brian's been shot.

That the whole thing is real.

All his paranoias proven horribly true.

- You mean, no one told you?
- Nope.

Why?

Forgot.

Jesus!

I mean... I knew it was over. I just...

...didn't know it was
up to me to make it stop.

- Mandy.
- Hello, Brian.

No, thanks.

These are the papers.

I believe they're in order.
All you need to do is sign.

So you won't forget.

- I already have.
- Evidently!

Fuck you, Brian! Did you ever, for one bloody
second in your life, want anything more... than this?

No.

Your problem is...

...you get what you want
and do what you will.

Worlds, Mandy, are
built out of suffering.

There is suffering at the birth of
a child as at the birth of a star.

You live in terror of
not being misunderstood.

Women defend themselves by attacking, just as
they attack by sudden and strange surrenders.

I lost my girlhood,
true. But it was for you.

What in God's name is going on up
here? How the fuck did you get up here?

- Brian, I'm really sorry about...
- It's alright, Shannon.

Mandy was just leaving.

Mandy, if you'd be so
kind as to follow me...

Let go of me. I'm perfectly
capable of making my own...

I really don't want to
have to call someone.

Call someone?

I am his wife, for fuck's sake!

Fuck the lot of you!

Was that the last time you saw him?

No.

I saw him again. Briefly, a
few weeks later, at a concert.

He was performing?

No. Curt was actually performing.

He and Jack Fairy had just
finished their Berlin record...

...and Curt was in
London playing some gigs.

And Brian was there, for a second.
I don't think anyone even saw him.

Which concert?

It was like a tribute. Sort of
a farewell concert to glam rock.

To save your wild, wild lives.
To ne'er your fans embitter.

To cease your sad
demise. Tonight, we toast!

Is this working? Cos I want it blue-er.

I don't think you should bother. I think I
should go on stage tonight, instead of you.

Arthur, come on, give
us a hand with this.

Stop moving about,
I'm doing me eyeliner.

"... and due to the overwhelming demand, there will be
additional shows added whenever and wherever possible."

"Regrettably, Mr Stone only has time for a few brief
questions this morning as he has a plane catch to Zurich."

Lou! Lou!

- I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm late. -Lou!
I think I'm on to something. -What?

- Something quite big. I think I know who Brian Slade is.
- Ah, that story's been dropped.

- What? Why?
- I need you on the Stone show.

But that's it!

What did they say to you? Lou!

Hi, yeah. My name is Arthur
Stuart, from the Herald.

I was given this number and told
I could reach Curt Wild here.

- Listen...
- Yeah. Hello? Hello!?

Listen, I don't know who the
hell gave you this number...

...but Curt Wild is not available
and not interested in granting you...

...or anyone else an interview
on this subject. You got it?

I'm sorry. I was told...

- That was really beautiful.
- Yeah? Thanks.

- Did you see him?
- No, I didn't see him.

It's only now, looking back...

...that I see how you patched through
my walls and entered my life...

...in waves.

Come closer.

Don't be frightened.

What's your name? Your
favourite colour? Song? Movie?

- Don't be nervous. Are you high?
- I'm on a button.

He was waiting for me.
I'd followed his signals...

...and slipped away and now, suddenly...

Hey!

Make a wish!

Hey!

Make a wish! And see
yourself, on-stage, inside-out.

A tangle of garlands in your hair. Of
course you were pleasantly surprised.

Softly, he said:

I will mangle your mind.

Tommy! Tommy! Where did you get the
idea for such a spectacular stadium show?

To tell you the truth � it's
a bloody pain in the ass!

The whole thing takes six full size rigs
or three chartered planes to transport.

What can I say? I think big!

Tommy! What's your opinion on the work
that President Reynolds has been doing?

Excellent. Excellent. I think
he's doing brilliant work.

He's a tremendous leader, a tremendous
spokesperson for the needs of the nation today.

Tommy! What's your response to the recent allegations
connecting you with bisexual pop-singer Brian Slade...

...who staged his own assassination
ten years ago this week in London?

...that Mr Stone has time for
this evening. Thank you very much!

Out! Get out!

"... Stone is promoting his Grammy-winning release,
"People Rockin' People", to sold-out arenas worldwide..."

Beer, please.

Excuse me? Sir? Are you
with the Tommy Stone Tour?

No. I'm just a journalist.

Perhaps you'd like my...
press pass? As a souvenir?

Thanks sir.

You're Curt Wild.

Yeah. Who the hell are you?

I'm a journalist. From the Herald.

You were at the concert?

It's just funny, cause... I was
trying to contact you, actually.

About a story I was doing,
about an old friend of yours.

Brian Slade?

I was trying to find out
what actually happened to him.

- Look...
- I mean, before he became...

...such a mystery.

Look, man, I don't know who you've been
talking to or what you're after here.

What?

What?!

Listen! A real artist creates beautiful things
and puts nothing of his won life into them. Okay?

- Is that what you did?
- No.

We set out to change the world.

Ended up just changing ourselves.

What's wrong with that?

Nothing.

If you don't look at the world.

Well, I guess in the end
he got what he wanted.

- That's quite a pin you got there.
- Oh yeah.

Is it old?

Possibly. It belonged to Oscar Wilde.

Or so I was told by the
person who gave it to me.

A friend of mine. Kinda
disappeared some years back.

I forget where we
were. We were on a trip.

But he said to me, "Curt...

"... a man's life is his image."

- Here. Why don't you hang on to it?
- Me?

Sure. Why not?

I've had it too long anyway. Go ahead.

For your image.

Really. I couldn't. But thanks.

God, I love this song.

- Anyway.
- Yeah.

- See ya around.
- Cheers!

He called it a freedom.

A freedom you can allow yourself.

Or not.