The Transcendents (2018) Movie Script

0
Girls give you the cash?
What about that
other thing I gave you?
It's a goddamn shame
what they did to you, Roger.
Nothing's more
valuable than a man's mind,
except maybe his soul.
And they robbed you of both.
Where you headed?
Got room for another?
Sure, why not.
Gracias.
Get on.
Hey, Asshole!
Hey, Harpo, you
fucking speak English?
As a matter of fact you do.
Who the fuck is playing tonight?
The up-and-comers.
Like who?
That's their name,
The Up-And-Comers.
These fucking bands today.
They all try to be cute.
They're all rich kids.
Never worked
a fucking day in their life.
When I first got here, no money.
How many decades ago was that?
A few.
That's right, a few.
Still no money, integrity.
We're not open.
Let him stay, money is money.
Owner wins.
What are you having?
Yo!
You know where I can
find The Transcendents?
Sure, they're on our jukebox.
We got all four of their albums.
Four?
Yeah, released
them all in a year.
Got everyone's
attention and then vanished.
Used to be our house band
back in more respectable days.
They still play here?
We booked them back when
they were too new to be known,
Nowthey're too famous to be found.
Are they still together?
The band?
Kim and Foster.
Married still, divorced maybe.
Maybe dead, maybe who cares?
Nothing but memories now.
My memory is fucked.
You know where
I could find their address?
You a psycho fan or some shit?
What brings you in here, man?
It says that bands play here.
Pussy ass nothing nobody bands.
When's the last time you
saw a real artist, Bartender?
Some time.
Some fucking time.
You like live music?
You're just looking
to get your drink on, huh?
I don't drink anymore.
Oh, fucking cute.
What's your name?
Roger.
You a musician?
I'm Jan, I own this place.
And that's
Bartender, he runs it.
Your bar smells nice.
Like Arabian pepper.
What the fuck?
You're very attractive.
Oh, thank you.
I'm celibate.
Straight
celibate or gay celibate?
- Cool, right?
- I collect weird shit.
I mean, it's not weird to me.
The rest of this
goddamn homogenized country
might find it, never mind.
I got to work
on my anger issues.
When I was younger,
I wrote a love letter
to Ted Bundy, he wrote one back.
Look, he even sent
me a chunk of his pubic hair.
Oh, that's
Cecilia, my little sister.
Deaf, paraplegic, car crash.
Lost everything but
her vision and good looks.
She can read lips though,
which is a fucking miracle,
'cause I don't do sign language.
I do take care of her, though.
You see her T-shirt?
She likes The Transcendents too.
When was she injured?
10 years ago.
Best thing that
ever happened to her.
She was a bit of a junkie,
and the crash
got her off the drugs.
She seems to have found
a healthier way of living.
At least that's
what I tell myself.
That's when I left.
Left where?
This town.
Nervous breakdown?
What?
You look like
someone who might've had
a nervous breakdown, or 10.
Went to a farm.
Roger, take the
magazine out of the gun.
Now check the chamber.
Make sure
there's not a round in there.
Alright, now clean it good.
Not like your
dick, clean it good.
You eat?
You
want me to fix you something?
What do you want?
Oh no you little minx.
She's
always trying to steal my men.
Some perverts like her,
but they alwaysleave
after she strokes 'em off.
Assholes.
Girl never seems
to learn her lesson.
Cecilia, are you hungry?
All right then,
I'm gonna go in the bedroom,
and rob Roger of his celibacy.
She
always has this effect on men.
Pretty girl that can't
walk, talk or feel pleasure.
She's a Muslim's wet dream.
Kim!
Kim!
Kim!
What?
They're gonna evict us.
Your daddy got us covered.
Unfair.
You want
me to find another band mate?
All you do is play bass.
You're a dime a dozen.
Thanks.
Clones.
Thank you, Kim.
Marsupials.
What?
Algae on the
aquarium of my mind.
Whatever.
Look, Foster, theonly
reason I let you in my band
is because I
needed a square bassist.
And the reason I
needed a square bassist
is because square bassists
don't fuck with my vision.
What vision is that?
You don't write songs
and we never play out.
You have no vision.
Do you
think me moving in meant sex?
I'd never even
touch you. Take a shower.
Wait, don't take a shower,
you'll be running up
the bills that you don't pay.
Call your daddy.
He wants to see some results.
Art ain't about results,
it's about know
it when you see it shit.
Know what I mean?
Relax, I'm gonna
find us our song man.
I told you, I think I found him.
Oh, I'm sure the guy youmet
at church is gonna kick ass.
I didn't meet him at church,
I met him outside church,
cursing in his song.
Cool.
Thought you'd like that.
He's here.
Okay, listen,
he's a little strange.
Definitely kind of weird, but
I think he's onto something.
Very like, I don't know.
I can't really
explain it, but, you'll see.
Rog, come on in.
That's Kim, the singer.
You got a girlfriend?
What?
Ain't a decent song man on earth
that don't got at least three.
So you got a girlfriend?
No.
You're not shit then.
You want some wine?
I don't drink.
Song man that don't drink.
Back to the girls.
Girls don't like me.
Sure they do.
You're good looking enough.
Bet you just fuck it up somehow.
I was molested.
Often.
So when people
touch me, I go cold,
and
my mind detaches from my body.
Or sometimes it doesn't
and I have an emotional fit.
Girls tend to find
either scenario disturbing.
Something I'm working on.
So.
As I was telling Kim,
when I found you playing those
amazing songs, I just-
- You got yourself a therapist?
Is that what you
mean by, "I'm working on it?"
My music,
that's how I work on it.
Takes me to another
level, the peaceful place.
A place of perfection.
Since I
obsessively seek such a place,
I suppose I could
be labeled a perfectionist.
That place gets you
to stop thinking about it?
It does.
I was molested.
I'm sorry.
I'm just kidding, I wasn't.
Perfect upbringing, I'm dandy.
Oh.
I don't remember muchabout
my childhood, if anything.
Maybe it didn't
happen, type thoughts.
The mind is an iceberg,
most everything only floats
with like a seventh of it
above water, Sigmund Freud.
Paraphrasing possibly?
My point is that that's how
we get through it all, right?
We deny this, accept that.
I ran
away from home really young
and starting singing songs
on the streets for money.
Maybe you
should go back out there,
bang on a
garbage can, earn your keep.
I would rather
bang on a garbage can
than a can of
garbage like you, Foster.
So who got you?
Like an uncle, or auntie?
The orphanage.
The older boys
had a utility room.
Everyone ignored it.
Happened regularly.
Did you know that
you can grab a piece of God,
put it inside you,
and eat it, digest it,
metabolize it, and
in a way you become God.
It goes for all animals.
Like when a cat
knows a person has cancer
before the person
does, that's God power.
We're all capable of that.
But we're more prone to the
evil, to the darker energies.
My music is a
battle between both.
The struggle
to transcend the soul
and reach a
place of universal holiness.
Wow.
This has to be the most morbid
start to a band in history.
Well, you fit the external
criteria for our song man.
Let's hear your shit.
So, you like combing hair
but go all
catatonic when I ride you?
She wanted grooming.
Grooming, yeah.
Atleast you stay hard long enough.
I'm sorry.
Or thank you.
Are you just gonna
keep doing that to her?
Why do you
think they disappeared?
What?
The Transcendents.
They probably
just shot their load,
which is more than someone
in this room can admit to.
It's been 10 years since,
I just can't.
I can't relax.
But you were happy.
Oh Lord.
You got somewhere to stay?
I'm looking for
The Transcendents.
Yes, I know.
You're looking
for the Transcendents.
Why?
I wrote
every song they ever recorded
before they were known.
I am The Transcendents.
And when I find
them I'm going to kill them.
That was unbelievable, man.
What type of music is that?
I can play the sitar.
I found one
on the streets, taught myself.
If we wanna
go the eastern route.
Eastern, western, antarctic.
It's all about dimensions.
Yeah, it's like shaman shit.
How'd you do that?
Things speak through me,
I channel them.
Like what?
Creatures.
Creatures?
Yeah, creatures man.
That's fucking bad ass.
You'll let me be the singer?
I guess now you
got me auditioning for you.
What do you mean by creatures?
This little guy here.
He wrote them.
They're hissongs and he gave them to me.
Yeah, I know man.
Some people.
So you wanna hear me sing?
Yes.
Oh that's amazing.
Fucking amazing.
Hey, how many songs we got now?
Five that Kim
can sing, 15 she can't.
Okay, so
that's enough for a live show.
Certainly enough for an EP.
No, it isn't.
Can you lower the key?
Maybe I
can sing the other 15 better?
No.
Just lower it a half step.
No, you can't
sing the songs I wrote.
Some yes, but not all.
I'll have to
write some new ones.
When I get
to 10 we can reassess.
You ask the mouse
if we can lower the key?
No.
Why?
He's gone.
No.
Those were all the songs he
had in him, so I set him free.
Well, I'm sure he wouldn't
mind if we lowered the key.
He might even scurry
down the street and hear 'em,
and say,
"Not bad, sounds better."
He's not on the street.
Where is he?
So can you maybe
find another small animal
that you can get
some songs out of?
Maybe some that are in my key.
Yes.
So legally, how can you
prove those songs are yours?
I told you, I'm not suing them.
If you could
prove it, it's your word-
Stole my fucking soul.
Roger, what about the masses.
Shouldn't they know they've
been worshiping false idols?
Don't give a shit about that.
What the fuck do
you give a shit about, Roger?
Restoring spiritual order.
You forgot his beard.
Well, if
anyone's meant to be with her,
it sure seems like it'd
be someone like you.
We share a connection.
Connection, right.
So, you have any tapes?
No.
No demos?
Nothing recorded with you
playing with them back then?
I can help you,
but I want a little taste
of whatever it is
you're going for.
Unless it's blood
there won't be much to taste.
Oh, the revenge fantasy.
I don't buy it for a second.
You get your revenge by taking
their money.
You understand that?
I can help, you
need me to help you.
You're luckyas hell you
came into Jan's bar,
'cause I know
every musician in town.
All I want in
return is a little pinch
to help me keep my bar open.
I believe what
you're telling me.
I like the smell of
real artist when I see one.
Even before I hear him play.
Speaking of which, why don't
you play something for me?
Put my opinion of
you right over the top.
I haven't picked up an
instrument in over 10 years.
So?
So I mind.
It's me, can I come in?
Hey.
Are you okay?
Can I have some whiskey please?
I thought you didn't drink.
It's good, right?
You want a puff, too?
Yeah?
How's the cat?
You getting any
good songs out of her?
You want me to go?
You sure?
Can I sit next to you?
Will you touch my face?
No!
Trigger?
Trigger?
What?
What?
Smell my hair.
Have you ever
kissed a girl before?
It's been over a year.
I let you live here rent free.
We have at least 50 great songs.
50 great songs
and at least 25 others
that I think are
good, but you don't.
And even if we only had 10.
You said that last year,
that's all that
we needed to take 'em out.
You wanna be a
songwriter Foster?
Write some fucking songs, man.
'Til then let me deal with
how this shit's gonna go down.
What shit?
Playing live, going
public, dealing with people.
Kim and me got problems, man.
What good is making art
if it only costs us more.
Right now it's pure,
helps our insides.
Your spiritual balance.
The second it goes out there,
people can fuck with it and us.
Aristotle would
call you a pussy, man.
That whole, if you
wanna avoid criticism line,
what is it?
Say nothing,
do nothing, be nothing.
Exactly.
Well, he'd be wrong, man.
'Cause we are something, man.
We're fucking artists.
Tree falls in the woods artists.
Grab your bass, let me teach you
how to play my new song.
No.
Then shut up,
let me play my xylophone.
[LIGHTER CLICKS[
How is she?
She's almost good.
Almost good?
She's good at singing 15 songs,
but she's a
hell of a sitar player,
so we're getting somewhere.
That's not what
I'm talking about.
That's none of
your business, you sidecar.
What is my business?
Paying your rent?
While having to listen
to two freaks silently screw?
Oh, wait, one.
One freak.
'Cause Kim's faking
it, you know that right?
She's never
suffered a day in her life.
She just wants to be your muse.
Someone to give herhillbilly
upbringing a purpose.
She's a careerist.
Like you?
Yeah, except, I'm tryingto
help this band take off.
Supporting its
ass, believing in you.
Covering up all the dead animals
people on the
block keep asking about.
Think I'm a fucking idiot?
The mouse, the hamster,
the gerbil, the cat.
I mean, a fucking cat, Roger.
When's it gonna end? Dogs?
Babies?
You should bearrested,
put it the nut house.
Send some electricity throughthose
temples, make you normal.
I believe in the music.
I believe in The Transcendents.
And I believe in-
Money.
Yeah.
That too.
So when are we
playing live, buddy?
Hey guys.
Hey.
Rog?
What's going on, baby?
Kim, will you
come to the bedroom?
Sure, why?
I wanna try some things on you.
Oh, come on Roger.
I'm done talking to you.
I was lying.
Shut up.
What are we gonna do, Roger?
Not sold on you, brother.
Play this, a few chords.
No thank you.
Why'd you walk into this bar?
You better not
be fucking with Jan.
Me and her-
Okay.
So I found an ex
junkie fresh out of facility.
Used to drum
for the Rogue's Agents.
He said he knewyou back
before you dropped off.
He said you were
batshit by the end.
He said you killed animals.
He admit the songs were mine?
You killed animals?
I knew you were lying, Foster.
Yo!
You ain't gonna
believe what I got.
No tax records since the
initial advance
on the album deal,
which all went to Foster.
There's no current address,
never bought any property.
No investments, nothing.
A complaint was
filed a decade back
that Foster went
missing up in Nova Scotia.
It was made by a
woman named Kim McShane,
said he was her husband.
Is that our Kim?
Yeah, that's Kim.
Wanna hear something neat?
That band's royalties
have been going to some farm
ever since the
albums were released.
What?
Yeah.
Going where?
5994 Nieblo Road,
you know anything about that?
That's her uncle.
Don't
let me push your head down.
What, are you
gonna give me a blowjob?
Come on. That's it!
Stop hitting like a woman.
With George and Sylvia McShane?
That's the farm
I was staying at.
You didn't know it was
being subsidized by the band?
You fucking shitting me?
Anyone else live there?
Her cousins,
there are six of 'em.
Kim?
That's where she
grew up before she ran.
Before she ran away.
Well here's the other thing,
there ain't no
record of Kim being born.
No birth certificate, no social.
No documentation of
anyone else ever living there.
Just George and Sylvia
McShane, brother and sister.
They're brother and sister?
That's strange to you?
Your Bloody Maria, darling.
Give it to me.
Do you need anything else?
No, thanks, we're good.
Just let me know. I will.
So, I was able to
get ahold of their contract
through an exec I used to fuck.
It's for five records, not four.
It says that The Transcendents
don't release a fifth record
within 10
years of the first one,
100% of all future royalties
revert back to
the record company.
It's total crap.
Bastards just make shit
up and hope you'll miss it,
and that they did.
They didn't have
a lawyer, no manager.
They signed away their
Souls. Signed away your soul.
Regardless, the only one
who signed it was Foster.
Kim's name was
nowhere to be seen.
Listen.
Yeah?
I need to speak to
your guy who knows me.
Hey.
You feel like apologizing yet?
You know how hard I worked
to get that A&R guy there?
I worked very hard.
You fucked it up.
Insulting him,
not really getting it.
What does that mean?
He liked it.
He liked it.
And you're making the decision
that you wanna
fail for all of us.
And
there's nothing that I can do,
'cause they're your songs.
Look, Rog,
it's been over a
year since Kim dumped you.
I mean, I don't know what
you said to her in that room,
but it changed
her. It changed you.
I don't know if you
gave her part of your mind,
or she took part of your soul.
Whatever, it's cool.
But she's mine now.
Mine.
We're leaving
this town for good.
Band's over.
Yeah, we got a
shit-load of good songs
and I'm proud of them.
But no one's coming to the gigs.
You need friends
for that, build an audience.
And you don't have any friends.
Neither does Kim. I know.
I know.
You two got rough pasts.
You don't like to let people in.
But a band has got
to be inviting, literally.
And well, literally.
You turn people off.
You insult their work.
Fucking kneel with
your back to the audience?
You're an
unmarketable, alienating guy.
You should have never gotten
started with this hard stuff.
Hey, yo Rog,
wanna try this shit?
Help you look
out at your five fans.
No, seriously, Rog.
You wanna get it with Kim?
Miss Kimmedy-Kim-Kim.
This shit will help.
Listen to Ralph.
Oh, yo, my man.
Yo, somebody help
this motherfucker sit down.
Hey, yo,
Rog, roll up your sleeve.
So that's that.
Music's brilliant,
just didn't work out.
Dreams die, chapters close.
Books open.
What, you think
I like saying this?
Wearing this monkey suit?
My dad cut me off.
Rock star on the
inside, but on the outside.
Goddammit.
You're the one that needs help.
You need religion, or yoga,
or somethingbesides your art and your pain.
It's fucking taxing.
I mean, when
was the last time that you
finished a song?
Maybe you should
put down the needle
and pick up another animal.
Suck it soul-dry,
whatever it is that you do.
I'm just kidding. No,
you shouldn't do that.
I'm only saying that
that mad genius part
only plays if you're making
something beautiful out of it.
Even then, I
don't know if it justifies it.
Look, long story short,
Kim
and I are trying to be happy.
Happy and healthy.
And until my old man
dies, we'll probably be poor.
But we'll be happy poor.
Unlike this unhappy poor.
Fuck me!
I can feel the judgment
seethingfrom your fucking pores!
After five fucking
years I've taken care of you!
I don't deserve this!
Happiness is
not a state of being, bro.
It's a fucking pursuit.
Like in the constitution.
And right now the constitution
side of me is saying
Bye-bye to being famous.
Bye-bye to The Transcendents.
Bye-bye.
Bye-bye Roger.
No, no.
Sorry.
Sorry, your neck, I forgot.
Kim, you can tell me about it.
No.
You kept
things buried for so long.
I misremembered it.
I can help.
Stop it.
Okay.
Okay.
You'll get better.
Music will help.
Can I try it?
Just let me try it.
Come here.
Hey Kim, have you seen my keys?
I can't find them anywhere.
What the fuck!
You motherfucker.
Wait, I asked to try it!
Get the fuck off of me!
You fuck!
Stop!
Stop!
It's my fault, Foster!
Shut up!
Get your shit
or I'm calling the cops!
Give him some time!
Fuck that!
Roger, you're a
junkie who kills animals.
They're gonna putyou right
back into the system.
Okay, you wanna
act like an asshole,
I'mgonna treat you like an asshole.
Go, go, go, go, go.
Just go.
Hi, this is
Foster Matthews, my address-
Yeah, I'll hold.
They re going to put youright
back into the system where
you spent your childhood
getting fucked up the ass!
Let's go! Come on!
I'm not fucking around!
Roger, get the fuck out!
Get the fuck out!
I swear to fuckin' God, Kim!
What the fuck are you doing?
Come on!
What the fuck, you ve
gotta be fucking kidding me!
Get up, get up, get up.
Get up!
This is my uncle's
farm, that's his address.
He'll help you.
Don't read this
one, just give it to him.
Go, go, go, go, go.
Go.
I loved you.
Go.
Yep, still waiting.
Yep, still will wait.
Hey, Ralph.
Hey Rog, how you doing?
How are the Rogue's Agents?
We're doing great.
Great man.
I mean, they kicked me
out, but we're doing great.
Hypocrites.
You know how it
is, the singer gets clean,
everybody gotta get clean.
Speaking of which,
you got anything on you
for old time's sake?
I don't do that anymore.
Well, you wanna
buy my ma-fucking goat?
No.
You killedall them animals. Fucking sicko.
I like it.
When's the last
time you saw Kim or Foster?
Foster, he disappeared
not too long after you did.
Right before he
released them albums.
You know that on all them shits,
it's listed as just Foster
as the lone songwriter?
Fuck.
Did he move to Nova Scotia?
What about Kim? When's
the last time you saw her?
Month ago, Copping.
What are you talking about?
Looked just like her,
though a version of her
that must
have been tied to a truck
and dragged through
a field of broken glass.
She on drugs?
Does the pope shit in the woods?
Where do the
kids score these days?
Copperhead's. Ironic, right?
Hey Rog, you got a few
bucks I could bum off you?
No, but you can have this.
Lets go.
Jan, what are you looking for?
A shark recommendation?
Your club finally
go on life support?
Did you ever book
The Transcendents?
The Transcendents?
Does this look like a
psychedelic bar to you?
Shut the fuck up.
You'd give anyone
time that'll work your worm.
You'd give anybody
time that'll bring 50 friends.
It's called capitalism.
It's called ladder climbing.
Except mine don't
border on prostitution.
Of course,
it does you naive hussy.
How often she come around?
Never seen her.
She might not
look like that anymore.
You fucking deaf, Jan?
Oh wait, that's your sister.
Kim comes around.
Kind of an unspokensecret.
The street keeps quiet.
Cops every three nights or so.
Might be around later tonight.
Back door, outside.
That's where
they come in and out of.
Hey man,
she's in real bad shape.
Tell Jan I'm sorry about
that comment on her sister.
It was a goddamn tragedy.
Did theyever catch the guy that did it?
I don't know.
What happened to your sister?
Head-on collision.
Other car was stolen.
Dude in it took off running.
There was a few witnesses,
but no one got a look.
And life can go
eat a big fat fucking dick.
How close were you to Kim?
We were in
love, then we weren't.
You like my sister?
I do.
You are
aware she can't have sex.
Sex isn't the only
way to express love.
No, but it's the best.
You ever been in love?
Once.
Yeah?
Too many missed hellos
turned into a long goodbye.
Faded.
One day you turn
your head and just know
something went in
a different direction.
It's the saddest
feeling in the world.
No cheating, nothing
dramatic, just yeah, faded.
We both realized it during sex.
We were both
making love to a memory.
We stopped mid,
sat there in silence.
Chain smoked.
And that was that.
Ever since, just give
me the first three months
four times a year.
You lonely?
Promise you won't tell anyone?
No.
Maybe you
should wait in the car.
Why?
Look, I ain't no
fucking car service, Roger.
I'm in on this.
She's in rough shape.
I may need to kidnap her.
I need you
waiting behind the wheel.
You got
childproof locks back here?
Do I look like a mom?
Hey you.
How are you, Kim?
No!
No, no, no, no, please.
No, no, no, no, please.
No, no, no, no.
Okay.
Okay.
Okay.
Okay.
I know, I know.
Good. Okay.
Good. Good.
He told you I'm just crazy?
Did he say he'd kill me, or?
He gave me a gun.
I gave it away.
The man has guns.
You should've hawked it.
I don't care about money.
Oh yeah, that's right.
Kim, why'd you send me there?
Because maybe he didn't.
He ever ask
about me, or anything?
You know that he
wasn't my uncle, Rog.
He was my...
My...
And Sylvia.
She was my...
She was my...
She was my...
You got a place?
I'm about to shit my fishnets.
I missed these hands.
They wrote a lot of good songs.
What happened?
What happened to your finger?
Car crash.
You don't remember me, Kim?
Jan, from Jan's Basement?
Okay, yeah.
Yeah, I do.
Is that how you know Roger?
I know Roger from recently.
Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn't.
You booked us
the five p.m. shit slots.
Bring 10 friends.
That was when
Roger still played with us.
Did you know me?
Hey, we up first?
Yes, sir.
Great, we're gonna go set up.
Hey, I don't think that
we have 10 friends tonight.
I'll mark you down for 10.
My sister is on vacation
with her stupid husband.
Thanks.
Hey Roger.
Got something for you.
How many times I gotta do this?
You sick?
That'll help.
Whose baby is that?
Double Duchess of York's.
They're going after you.
They're English girls, triplets.
They think they're so clever.
You like kids?
I love 'em.
I'm gonna have a
big family some day.
Just gotta meet the right man.
Here you go.
Rock star.
Hey Roger, can you keep a
secret?
And that's the truth.
Oh yeah, you were
that fucked up booth girl
from before the...
Yeah.
You look good.
I remember just
you and your husband.
Two person band.
Yeah, that came a little later.
We actually
got signed at an A&R showcase
that you put us on.
So thanks for that.
A&R ain't been in
our club in half a decade.
Basement got a lot of
bands signed back in the day.
Suppose people got short
term memories
when it comes to that.
No, they don't.
We got a lot to
talk about, don't we?
Do we?
Sure as fuck think so, honey.
Okay then.
Well, no more
money, no permanent home.
I bounce around a lot.
Let people have sex with me.
My body at least, you know.
My mind is a patch
of kaleidoscope gray.
Been fucked up
for about a decade.
Off and on, but mostly on.
It's not your fault, Rog.
I would havegotten into
it anyway, you know?
I did get into it anyway.
So there's that.
What do you wanna know?
Why Roger didn't
get credit for the songs?
Yeah.
I mean, Roger
kind of lost his shit
after we broke up.
I was self-medicating hard.
We were together, what? A year?
I don't remember exactly.
The sex was good.
I mean, as good as
it can be for people like us.
Not aggressive.
I mean, I know some girlslike
it rough, but I never did.
In the beginning I
guess I pretended to like it
just to get guys to like me.
But I had to just
shut my mind down
to make the animal noises,
or whatever the fuck young
girls think guys wanna hear.
But with Roger it was different.
I couldkinda be more available to him.
Our minds and our
bodies could kinda sync up.
He was gentle.
'Til one day Foster told Roger
some shit that made
him go all Svengali on me.
He showed me me in his eyes,
or my truth, you know.
My truth as well as I
could perceive it at the time.
And then he didn't
let me look away.
I couldn't connect
to Roger after that.
His mind grip
on me was too powerful.
I mean, I love you.
Still do in a way you know,
but love is heart thing,
and I suppose a body thing.
But it sure as
shit ain't no head thing.
And when somebodygets up
in your head like that.
You know,
everything seems dangerous.
So I jumped into the
arms of the safest guy I knew.
Turned out he
wasn't so safe after all.
His boyish simplicity outweighed
Roger's
dangerousness by mansions.
So after Rog ran away,
I found myself spending
more and more time alone.
That's when I started using.
You know Rog, when you're alone
with your thoughts, it helps.
It helps a lot, 'til it doesn't.
Foster tried to rescue me
by forcing me
into a quick marriage.
It's a fake marriage
when it's a quick one.
I didn't want to,
but what the fuck was
the difference at that point?
I knew I wanted to get clean.
Thought maybe being a housewife
would be my ticket
out of this junkie hell.
His daddy was
dying, so he thought maybe
there's an
inheritance on the way.
Get ourselves a nice house,
granite
countertops, pastel walls.
Porcelain
fucking unicorn collection,
or however the
fuck it's supposed to go.
His daddy finally croaked,
and he didn't
leave Foster with nothing.
His mama died in childbirth,
so maybe his daddy
had that against him.
I don't know why actually.
Not getting that moneybrought
the worst out in Foster.
After every beating, he'd cry.
Blame it on his
daddy and whatnot.
Guess everybody's
gotta blame somebody.
Exceptthe weakest use it as an excuse
to avoid shakinghands
with their own hypocrisy.
Did you know
Foster was a cutter?
A male cutter.
Fuck, that wasn't him.
Was that you?
I don't remember.
Anyway, we needed money.
What do you think came next?
We had the stack of songs.
You weren't gonna
do a goddamn thing with them.
Why not? Give it another shot.
Go down to being
a bass and sitar band.
Stripped all the songs
of your weird sounds.
You'd fucking
hate 'em, but it worked.
Soon after we
played Jan's Dump again.
Basement.
Basement.
Jan's Basement.
We got our break when
the Rogue's Agents' drummer
was too strung out to play.
We signed our
record deal soon after that.
Took some
convincing of the label heads.
They came around to theidea
of a husband and wife duo,
with a sitar, singing
songs about childhood trauma.
I rediscovered the
needles the minute we signed.
How much was your advance?
I don't know.
Enough, I guess.
Enough to makeFoster
think he was a big shot.
But, contract was
for five records, not four.
We thought we hadenough,
but they disagreed.
So, we did four.
We had 10years to release the fifth one.
I guess we
figured that in that time
we'd learn how to write.
I did get my way
on one thing, though.
We released all four at once.
That was my idea.
It was a good one.
You know, when you're using,
you're walkingaround
with that death feeling.
Like today is the day.
I was living that nightmare.
I just wanted to make sure
all the music
went out before I did.
So I
said all at once, or nothing.
They didn't know I was using.
They just
thought it was a cool way
to market us as mad geniuses.
Epic.
Foster thought it
was a bad money move.
But I knew the truth about the songs,
and I was prepared to sabotage
it all just to get my way.
And I did get my way,
except on one thing,
publishing.
See, I technically don't exist.
That's why
I had to make it so that
if anything ever
happened to Foster
all the royalties
would go to the farm.
You were there,
my sisters were there.
Cousins.
I don't
know what you'd call them.
Half sisters.
No.
Anyway, somebody needed to
collect if he was gone, right?
I was his only
family at that point,
so fuck it, right?
If I can't, better y'all.
I wanted to give
you credit Rog, but.
No buts.
We offended the
sensibility of the universe.
Fucking thieves perpetuating
the longest of long cons.
What's a little wording under
a song title, though, right?
After I killed Foster,
there went The Transcendents.
Nova Scotia.
We took a vacation.
Somewhere healthy, somewhere
I could get clean again.
Plus there was somebody
up there I wanted to see.
Never did end up
getting to see her, though.
Around this time, Foster hadbeen
getting terribly disgusted
with my comatose
sex, as he called it.
I couldn't fake it anymore.
The act was like watching
an infomercial on Mescaline.
So he started doing
things to get me to react.
That night in the cabin
hewent all Nazi surgeon on me,
started playing me
like a pinball machine.
I snapped.
I must've had some kind of
baby under the car strength,
'cause he went down.
Watched him,
waiting on him to wake up.
Nothing.
Not evenblood in his eyes, it was clean.
I knew an autopsy
would prove otherwise, though.
Nova Scotia's got
some nice waterfalls.
Deadly ones too.
Middle of the night you can
push a body through the woods
and dump it into oblivion.
Chucked
a bottle of CC off after him.
One of them will show up,
hopefully the
other one will too.
Somebody got
too close to the edge, oops.
I went down to the
local department
the next morning
and filed
a missing person's report.
Showed 'em my bruises,
told 'em he'd been drinking
and we been fighting.
He wanted to take a walk
down to the water, cool off.
That's the last I saw him.
They went looking,
never found a body.
They found a bottle though.
That was enough to chalk
it up to a missing person's.
The reason it
never hit the press
was becausel never made no noise about it.
Our records
hadn't dropped yet, so
we weren't famous or anything.
In fact, the record company
actually thought it was cool
that Foster was gone.
Can you believe that shit?
They were like,
let's create this whole
ambiguous Transcendents persona.
Like the music was
from the gods or some shit.
It was from
rape and dead animals.
Obviously, we
never toured again.
No public appearances.
My job was just to lay low.
Keep the myth of
the band in exile alive,
while you all back
home collected the checks.
It was my penance.
Decade later, here we are.
So you wanna kill me?
The songs, they belong to Roger.
Kim, you need to
look him in the eyes
so you know for a
fact, or you're gonna die.
Jan, I appreciate your help,
but you
need to stay out of this.
When we get back
we're gonna write a new
Transcendents album,
and you can have the money,
and the rights, and
the royalties, whatever.
But right now I
need to borrow your car.
You get them
royalties sorted out for me?
For you?
For us.
The farm. Our utopia.
I don't see much of a
utopia here, George.
I don't know what that
means, but did you get 'em?
I don't want 'em.
Well shit boy.
Them checks stop coming,
who's gonna
keep this place afloat?
You gonna ask how she's doing?
Why didn'tyou tell me you were her father?
Kim decided a long time ago
she was gonna call
me uncle. I don't know why.
Why don't you do
yourself a little research
on post traumatic stress
disorder amongst rape victims.
What?
Kim was never,
none of the girls were.
She's ill in the head.
How long you known me?
Have I ever once
exhibited those signs?
So explain Kim.
I fucking told you, she's ill!
Came out that way.
Well she mentioned
she didn't know
if her cousins
were sisters, or half sisters.
What do you
think that means, George?
When'd you meet Sylvia?
Childhood sweethearts.
Sister?
What?
Was she your sister?
Shake it off.
You'll be all right.
As for the uncle,
I was following orders
she gave me on the note.
Her wishes, not mine.
Hell, how
come she never told you?
Weren't you two together?
And the band, the money?
How long were you gonna
keep that from me, George?
Well, for that I apologize.
I thought you
were gonna go after them
and keep the money for yourself.
The important thing is,
I shared it with you eventually.
When it was convenient.
I apologize.
You knew all along
they were screwing me.
It just didn't
matter 'til it screwed you.
Where's the money, George?
Where'd the money go?
Kickbacks.
You've seen
what's inside the barn.
Cleaned most every piece.
There's a reason for that.
This country's
at a crossroads, Rog.
Too many fucking people,
and they're all
coming for your property.
Either the property of your mind
or the property of your
hands, but they are coming.
Can't believe you
don't want your rights back.
Write all those great songs.
I wouldn't even
have known about it,
unless you bought
that goddamn computer.
Fuck George, I was happy.
Now you wannahelp the
man that's helped you?
I'd greatly appreciate the
reciprocality, mister song man.
If not, get the
fuck off my property.
But she's staying.
You ain't family, she is.
This ain't a family situation.
This is a hostage situation.
Hostage?
It's called family.
Why do you think Kim
sent all that money here?
The kickbacks weren't
for the guns, George.
They were for your family.
Those in highplaces
knew that you and Sylvia
This whole fucking place.
I know, I know.
I saw them suitscoming
up, collecting envelopes.
You saying things like, "Oh,
you go tell the congressman."
That was for the arms, son.
You can't
stockpile what I've got
without
some federal bureau coming in
and wondering what
the fuck is going on.
Why you even need to stockpile?
Defensive violence! WACO shit
in case they take the farm.
Why they wanna take your farm?
Plenty of farms,
this is fucking America.
It's built on fucking farms.
Why do you think theygot
an eye on this one, George?
Because of the guns!
It's 'cause none of your
daughters have birth records.
Look at yourself, man.
You're a
goddamn walking falsity.
Seven beautiful
daughters, and they're all in-
God!
Fuck! God!
George, did you do it?
Did you do it?
George?
You tell Kim the truth, man.
Kim needs to know, man.
Just tell her the fucking truth!
God!
Just tell her the truth
man, nobody's going to jail.
She just needs
to know, man, she's fucked up!
She wants to
fucking kill herself.
You're gonna want to
put a bandage on that leg
before you bleed out.
Let me help you up.
You tell her.
You tell her the truth and I'llget
you your fucking royalties!
Y'all hungry?
Girls made a stew.
Kim, it's been
a long time since you left.
Missed you.
You a good daughter, always was.
Keeping this farm
breathing. Owe it all to you.
How's your leg?
Okay, okay, I get it.
It's gonna be like this?
Kim, this guy
here, after he kicked it,
wanted to learn
everything about farming.
So I tried to teach him.
The problem was, he
couldn't handle a kill shot.
All my girls
could do a kill shot,
but not Rog.
Didn't have it in him
to slaughter an animal.
I don't know what you
think happened, but it didn't.
Boogeyman in your mind
doing a tap dance with you.
It never happened.
I never.
We slept in
the same bed sometimes,
but a lot of
kids do with their daddy.
It's normal.
We used to play
the octopus game, remember?
But I never
touched you like that.
You know if I did that to you
I would
have done it to the others.
That's how sickos work.
Ain't just one.
Predators need to prey.
Christ, will
you say something, Kim?
Ain'tutter a word since you got here.
Roger, will you get her to talk?
If she's got a
question, have her ask it.
If not, what else I gotta say?
I don't care what you
heard the day she snapped,
but you're pure.
Your mama had an illness,
that's why I sent her away.
But she wasn't my
Even though, you know
that thing doctors talk about.
Bad chromosomes,
down's, janked up teeth.
That's all movie maker's myth.
I did my research all about it.
A person couldhave that
type of relationship,
and their kids turn out fine.
Why is it one
guy can have one drink
and another can't stop at 100?
Nature? Nurture?
Life s mysterious.
Embrace it or run away
and start
your own thing like me.
Here I'm a role model,
and fuckersgonna sit here and accuse me of.
Even if she is what youthink
she is, and she's not.
It takes two to tango.
Your mama had an illness.
Minddegenerated to a breaking point.
George!
Stop it!
George!
Stop!
George!
Stop it!
Goddamn it, George!
Kim, look me in the eyes.
You remember me touching you?
Kimmy?
Where you at, Kimmy?
Where you hiding?
All right, I
know you're in here.
Boo!
Oh!
Roar!
Oh, oh, oh!
Kim.
You remember me touching you?
I would just cuddle with you.
I'm a teddy bear.
I just want a hug.
You're gonna find a way to
keep this farm rolling, Roger?
Saved your life.
Got Kim clean just now.
All my other girls
are happy and healthy.
Don't bother no one.
A place like this goes,
it's a bad sign, brother.
The rest of
Rome ain't far behind.
First they take your guns.
Then they take your land.
And I fucking never touched you!
You little fucking whore!
You ready, Kim?
Yeah, ready.
Hey, Roger.
You're safe, it's okay.
Hey Jan,
why don't you come up here
and give us an
introduction or some shit?
Ladies and gentlemen,
I give you The Transcendents.