CBGB

Synopsis: CBGB follows the story of Hilly Kristal's New York club from its conceit as a venue for Country, Bluegrass and Blues (CBGB) to what it ultimately became: the birthplace of underground rock 'n roll and punk. When Kristal had difficulty booking country bands in his club on the Bowery he opened his doors to other kinds of rock music. Kristal had one demand of the acts he booked; they could only play original music. No top 40's, no covers. It was the credo he lived by, support the artist at whatever the cost. Hilly Kristal ironically became known as the godfather of punk giving a chance to such bands as Blondie, Television, Ramones, Talking Heads, Dead Boys and The Police.
Genre: Drama, Music
Director(s): Randall Miller
Production: Xlrator Media
 
IMDB:
6.6
Metacritic:
30
Rotten Tomatoes:
8%
R
Year:
2013
102 min
Website
311 Views


Right now. Right now.

Right now it's time to kick

out the jams, motherfuckers!

- Come on, man. Take

this horrible sh*t off.

What the hell? I'm listening to that.

- When Mom comes home,

she'll make me shut it off.

Well, I'm doing her a favor then.

Dude, you know what? This

is really making me crazy.

-

- Then leave.

What? I just got here.

What are you doing, by the way?

I'm starting a magazine.

Like... Like 19 instead of 16?

Or 21. Or... Oh, no, no, wait.

We should totally go younger... 13.

- Get in on the newbie chicks.

- No.

It's a magazine for f***-up kids.

Like kids who have parties when their

parents are away and destroy the house.

Cool. I can be, like,

the editor or something.

No. I'm the editor and the illustrator.

- Well, what does that leave me?

- You're just a punk.

I am just a punk.

"Punk. "

- That's a great title.

- Yeah. And that was my idea.

- Dude, I thought of that idea.

- What? No, you didn't.

- I just said, "That's a great title. "

- Who gave you the idea for "Punk"?

Who said it was a great title?

Heard of a van that's

loaded with weapons

Packed up and ready to go

Heard of some grave

sites out by the highway

A place where nobody knows

The sound of gunfire

off in the distance

I'm getting used to it now

Lived in a brownstone,

lived in a ghetto

I've lived all over this town

This ain't no party

This ain't no disco

This ain't no fooling around

This ain't no Mudd Club or CBGB

I ain't got time for that now

Heard about Houston?

Heard about Detroit?

I said Chatterbox

I said you squawk a lot

Come on, give me some lip

Yeah, Chatterbox

I call you up

Don't give me no line

I'm comin' in your home

On the chatter line

- Hillel, where are you?

- Hillel!

Kidnapped? Bertha, no

one kidnaps from the poor.

- What?

- Hilly's missing.

Get your truck.

How did he get here?

He must have walked.

Three miles?

- It's two and a half.

- That is not normal.

Hillel Kristal, you currently

reside at 21 East 2nd Street?

And what is your marital

status, Mr. Kristal?

My wife and I are split.

- Separated or divorced?

- Divorced, yeah.

- Children?

- Two.

And this is your second

failed attempt to run a bar.

A club.

Divorced and two bankruptcies.

Perhaps you should try something else.

I'm sick of the parties

I'm sick of the ravers

I'm sick of the dogs

and my noisy neighbors

I'm sick of the subways

and I'm sick of the crowds

I'm sick of hot water

always runnin' out

I'm sick of the crap I

gotta take in this town

If I didn't love it, I swear

I'd burn it to the ground

I'm sick of the tourists

I'm sick of their stares

I'm sick of all the girls

who ain't showin' their wares

I'm sick of the queens

and I'm sick of the whores

I'm sick of bad plumbing

and those backed-up sewers

I'm sick of the crap I

gotta take in this town

I'm sick

If I didn't love it, I swear

I'd burn it to the ground

You know, I'm sick

If I didn't love it, I swear

I'd burn it to the ground

I'm sick of the crap I

gotta take in this town

I'm really sick

If I didn't love it

Do you play?

Used to.

Me too.

Mother required it.

Hilly Kristal.

They call me Idaho.

- Why's that?

- I like potatoes.

Buy you a drink?

All right. All right. Big shot.

The Palace Bar.

I like the irony.

- What'll you have?

- Whiskey.

Brandy and Fresca.

No Fresca.

Soda.

Anyone play music in here?

No.

Nobody would complain about

the noise this far downtown.

They'd complain, but

no one would listen.

Think what a coat of paint could do.

Or a bulldozer.

I wanna buy this bar.

Got any money?

Look around, Hillel. You know

that I'm not made of money.

Mmm.

This rugelach looks

amazing, Mrs. Kristal.

Ah, you're such a good

boy, Merv. Take some more.

Mmm.

Merv, are you gonna be

working with Hillel...

on the new club?

Only if he pays me.

He'll pay you.

Am I correct, Hillel?

All the boys, they're

putting me down

I know what they say

when I ain't around

He can't make it

He'll have to stake it

Can't play with broken strings, Idaho.

One-way street

Yes, I'm talking

about what street now?

One-way street

Thanks, Hilly.

Hilly's on the Bowery.

Very nice. Another promising

investment opportunity for your mother.

This way to the kitchen.

And lose that phony accent, Merv.

Two more blasts of ketchup.

- How many is that so far?

- Uh, 15.

It's a train wreck.

- What a surprise.

- Nice to see you too.

- I'm droppin' out of school, Dad.

- Well, you shouldn't.

- Well, I can't afford it.

- So that's my fault?

Yeah.

I need a place to crash, just for a couple

of nights until I get things back on track.

- You leave that boyfriend yet?

- You consider getting a real job yet?

Come on, operator

Let me roll it on my line

You know what I

need to ease the pain

In my mind

A hundred-dollar smile

Well, it's a start.

We have a stage.

Now we need an income.

I was thinking 50-cent beers and topless

waitresses like that joint down on...

Look, the music will do it all for us.

You start playing that

disco sh*t, I'm gone.

Country and blues.

In New York City?

This club's gonna be different.

- Country and blues?

- Country, bluegrass, blues.

- I should've never left my other job.

- That place was a shithole.

This place is a shithole.

Idaho, come on.

I'm lookin' up.

It's the only bar in the

city with Fresca on tap.

Yeah, but that sh*t will kill you.

Uh, hello.

We hear you have a stage.

We have a band.

The perfect band to

perform on your stage.

What kind of music do you play?

Uh, new music.

Uh, what does CBGB stand for?

Country, Bluegrass, Blues.

They play a little of that.

A little rock, a little country,

a little bluegrass, a little blues.

Hey, didn't you use to

manage the Village Vanguard?

Hundred years ago.

One moment.

Terry Ork. I manage the band Television.

Oh.

Uh, you just met the guitar

players, Richard and Tom, outside.

It's a win-win.

CBGB gets new customers buying drinks,

and we get to play for an audience.

They any good?

They are raw...

and they-they're primitive.

- They are going to be huge.

- I bet they stink.

But maybe if they perform...

they'll get better.

All right. You've got some vision, man.

- Only original music.

- You got it.

Ah! That way, you get to

avoid paying ASCAP fees.

It's a philosophy.

You might want to consider

an exterminator, just to...

You got a good sound engineer?

You're talking to a man

who sang at Radio City.

Oh, my and a boo-hoo

Hilly Kristal.

My hands are dirty, okay?

What's your name?

Taxi. Look, I'm not

much of a dog person.

But you're mechanical. Are you musical?

Yeah, I played in a band

once. My guitar was stolen.

I have a position in my club.

Are you paying?

Yeah.

Oh, my and a boo-hoo

Hey, what... I don't know... Uh...

This is Taxi...

my sound engineer.

Hey, man, you're gonna want to crank it.

You play too loud...

I'm walkin' out.

Hey, whenever you're ready.

You know I

I jump outta bed

I pull down the shade

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Jody Savin

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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