Don't Knock the Rock

Synopsis: A disc jockey tries to prove to teenagers' parents that rock 'n' roll is harmless and won't turn their kids into juvenile delinquents.
 
IMDB:
5.7
TV-G
Year:
1956
84 min
42 Views


Don't even stop to take your makeup off.

Get down to the side entrance. The cops are waiting.

Alan, if you're gonna pull any kind of a trick this time...

I told you, the car's at the curb.

The cops are waiting to get you to it.

What could I possibly pull?

Besides, no one knows what exit you're going out.

Come on.

What a crowd!

How'd they know I was coming out this way?

You got me, Arnie. I don't know.

Well, what do you expect?

When they see four cops rush in, they figure something's cooking.

You did it again. You set it up.

I...

You better get out, Mr. Haines.

The longer you wait the harder it's gonna be.

That's right.

Let him through. Let him through!

Arnie!

Give me a break, will you?

I did five shows today and I forgot to take my vitamin pills this morning.

Okay, honey, cut loose.

My purse!

Somebody stole my purse!

Help! Help, somebody! Stop the thief!

Somebody stole my purse!

That should get you the Academy Award.

Help! Police! Stop the thief!

When he came in, Mr. Freed stopped by the desk and said you might be in need of this.

Alan's here already?

He and others.

Lots of others, a veritable multitude.

Who?

Oh, I don't know, Mr. Haines.

But to me, it sure looks like trouble.

Boy, that guy is just murder.

Take care of the car for me, will you?

It's Arnie!

What's going on here?

Mr. Haines, my name is Tina Stephens.

Oh, hi.

I'm president of the Arnie Haines Fan Club Number 206.

Well, I'm always happy to meet new friends, but I hardly expected to find anyone here.

Mr. Haines, we came all the way in from Philadelphia just to see you.

Some of the kids are from your hometown.

I know. I've seen them.

But it wasn't possible to get into the theater.

So we thought we could see you here.

You did right, honey.

Arnie is always glad to say hello.

We thought you might autograph one of your records for us.

Just to prove to the other kids back home that we really talked to you.

Sure. I'd be glad to.

But maybe you fellows and gals could do me a favor.

You name it.

Well, tell me, what's all the shooting about?

Why do people like yourselves want to see me or talk to me?

Because you're Arnie Haines.

You stay out of this. You...

I'm sorry. You tell me, please.

Golly, Mr. Haines...

maybe it's the way you sing, or the beat or something.

You don't really know, though, do you?

Isn't it enough that we want to see you and talk to you?

Sure, and I'm grateful, brown eyes. Thank you.

Will you autograph the record?

Sure, is it the one on the machine?

Somebody got a pen?

I got one, Arnie.

Now, in a nice, bold hand.

"What's all the shooting about?" Brother.

I'm not through with you yet.

Here you go. Here, it's yours.

And thank you.

Thank you very much for coming up...

and anytime you're in New York, you come in again.

You hear? I'm glad to see you. Really.

Gee, thanks, Mr. Haines. We will.

Bye~

Be careful going home, now.

What are you trying to do, get us thrown out of the hotel...

so you can get more of that idiotic publicity?

Alan, tonight's the last straw.

Arnie, you gotta do these things.

You never wanna string along with me, so...

You'll make a freak out of me whether I like it or not.

Look, everybody's trying to get into the newspapers, Arnie.

You gotta push the other guy aside and make news.

He seems to think that me running around in my underwear,

or getting...thrown out of a hotel is news.

Now, does that sound like news to you guys?

Oh, if you were Kim Novak, it might.

Oh, very funny.

Look, fellows, listen to me...

Arnie's right, Alan.

Maybe you have had a lot to do with us getting where we are, sure.

But you're getting everything all twisted out of shape.

You think nothing's more important than getting in the papers.

Listen, that's free publicity. That's our bread and butter.

Bread and butter, my foot.

We ate better back on the farm in Mellondale.

And we had more fun clobbering a guitar and drums there than we've ever had since.

And don't tell us about the money we're making.

With you hounding the agency like a scared rabbit, trying to get us work...

like there's not gonna be a tomorrow, we're lucky we get any sleep.

Let alone a chance to spend some of that money on a little pleasure.

What are you trying to do, make us the richest guys in the Mellondale cemetery?

Yeah, man. There just ain't no rock and roll music for a harp.

What do you guys want?

I'll tell you what I'd like.

I'd like some of those fresh-caught lobster and crab from back home.

Steamed clams, a weenie roast at the beach.

I want to lie on my back, look up at the sky...

and listen to the folks talk about all that good rain they get for their crops.

That, and getting my own eggs out of the henhouse...

a watermelon out of the field.

You sound like you're hungry.

I know what he means.

We haven't seen our folks in over two years.

Tag? Dave?

That's right.

Are you really serious about going home?

Well, how about it?

No more work until September.

We'll spend all July and August back in Mellondale and really live it up.

Oh, Mammy, steam up those clams!

Yeah, that's for me.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

What about all those bookings we've got scheduled for this summer?

$80,000 worth.

Cancel them.

Cancel them?

That's right.

How can we cancel out on those dates, Arnie?

If not for the money, for all the good will

We'd be losing in every town we're supposed to play in.

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Robert E. Kent

Robert E. Kent (August 31, 1911 in Canal Zone, Panama – December 11, 1984 in Los Angeles, California) was an American film writer and film producer. Kent began as a rapid screenwriter for Sam Katzman at Columbia. For seven years he worked as a writer and story editor at Columbia. Then he became a producer for Edward Small. He used the pseudonym James B. Gordon for some of his work, He later formed his own production company, and Admiral Productions together with Audie Murphy. Robert E. Kent died in 1984. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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