Quadrophenia

Synopsis: London, 1965: Like many other youths, Jimmy hates the philistine life, especially his parents and his job in a company's mailing division. Only when he's together with his friends, a 'Mod' clique, cruising London on his motor-scooter and hearing music such as that of 'The Who' and 'The High Numbers', does he feel free and accepted. However, it's a flight into an illusionary world.
Genre: Drama, Music
Director(s): Franc Roddam
Production: Rhino Home Video
 
IMDB:
7.3
Metacritic:
79
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
R
Year:
1979
120 min
1,395 Views


Is it me

For a moment, for a moment?

For a moment, for a moment

Love

Reign o'er me...

Bell boy

Bell boy...

Can you see the real me? Can you?

Can you?

I went back to the doctor

To get another shrink

I sit and tell him 'bout my weekend...

Darlin'! Oi!

Can you see the real me?

Doctor? Doctor?

Can you see the real me?

Doctor

Doctor

I went back to my mother

I said "I'm crazy, Ma. Help me"

She said "I know how it feels, Son"

"Because it runs in the family"

Can you see the real me?

Mother? Mother?

Can you see the real me?

Mother?

Can you see?

Can you see the real me?

Preacher? Preacher?

- Nice bike, mate!

- F*** off!

Bollocks! F*** off!

Why don't you get off and push it?

Can you see? Can you see?

Can you see?

Can you see the real me?

Doctor?

Can you see the real me?

Mother?

Here, Ferdy.

- Ferdy.

- Hello, Jim.

- How's it going, eh?

- All right.

Here, you got something nice for me?

- At your service, man.

- Keep your brains warm, do they?

- How many do you want?

- Well, come here.

- I want about a dozen.

- F*** off, Jim.

All right, all right. Twenty.

But how much?

They're pretty scarce. I had to go

over the water to get these.

Got on a banana boat

back to Jamaica, did you?

No, Brixton. And as you know, Jim,

it costs money to get down there.

- All right. How much?

- A quid.

You're a f***ing liberty taker.

Oi, Ferdy...

- Hello, lovers.

- Hi, Monkey.

What have you come as?

Go on, then, get in there.

She won't bite.

- If you don't, I might.

- Nah, I'm not bothered.

Not much.

- I know, I'll pull it for you.

- No, you won't.

- Oi, Steph.

- F*** off.

Now you know, you know

You're gonna knock 'em dead

I love the way you walk

I'm crazy about your walk

I love the way you walk

I love the way you...

- George.

- What?

- I ain't...

- Why?

- You know why.

- Get off.

Don't say that.

It's always the same lately.

What's the matter?

- Pack it in. Don't do that.

- Why not?

Just shut up. Go to sleep.

I've always got to go to sleep.

I'm fed up with it.

Here, Yvonne, you got any scissors?

Over on the table.

Oh, what have you done?

I don't know what I've done.

I can't see, can I?

It's only nail varnish.

I'll clean it up in the morning.

You're so bleedin' clumsy.

Here, you wanna watch it, you know.

One day, you'll come out from

under there with first-degree burns.

It happened to

a mate of mine's sister.

Oh, piss off.

Why should I care

If I have to cut my hair?

I got to move with the fashion

Or be outcast

I know I should fight

But my old man, he's really all right

And I'm still living at home

Even though it won't last

Zoot suit

White jacket

with side vents five inches long

I'm out on the street again

And I'm leaping along

Dressed right for a beach fight

But I just can't explain

Why that uncertain feeling

Is still here in my brain

Well, be-bop-a-lula

She's my baby

Be-bop-a-lula

I don't mean maybe...

Oi, will you leave that out, please?

Do what?

Don't sing all that old rubbish, eh?

That ain't rubbish, pal.

That's Gene Vincent, all right?

Yeah, that's what I said, old rubbish.

Why don't you just turn over

and do a few underwater farts?

Why don't you just f*** off?

You f*** off.

Well, be-bop-a-lula

She's my baby

I don't mean maybe

You really got me now

You got me so

I don't know what I'm doin'

- Really got me...

- Be-bop-a-lula...

You got me so

I can't sleep at night...

Oh, God! What do you

think you are? A couple of fairies?

Shut up, for God's sake!

All right, cut it out.

What do you think this is?

The Eurovision Song Contest?

Right, I'll sort you out.

If you wanna start something,

I'll see you outside...

- F*** me!

- Kevin Herriot?

- Jimmy?

- Yeah.

- I thought you was in the army.

- I got out. How you going?

I'm all right, yeah. The army

didn't teach you to sing, did it?

- Nah. Gonna give me me brush back?

- Yeah, all right.

Here, pile the licker on, mate.

All right.

Two and eight? Cheers.

Hello, Jim.

- What's the matter with you, then?

- That gear you got, it's leather.

That's it. Goes with the bike, dunnit?

- I never realised.

- You never realised what?

- Well, you's a rocker.

- What, am I black or something?

You ain't exactly white

in that sort of get-up, are you?

Nah.

- Give us a cup of tea, mate, please.

- All right.

Anyway, how long you been back?

Couple of months ago.

- You couldn't stick it, eh?

- Nah, they messed me about.

They treat you like a lump of sh*t.

Some sergeant-major

wants to order you about.

"Don't do this, don't do that".

Drove me f***in' mad.

- Then they shipped me off to wogland.

- Whereabouts?

Aden. It was all right, as it happens.

Like, shooting matches

with the rebels and all that.

But they put the block on that.

Shipped me back home.

Back home to the same boring routine.

- Drove me f***in' mad...

- I gotta go, Kev.

- Where you going?

- I'll see you later.

- All right?

- Yeah, fine, John.

What's this f***ing rocker doing here?

Jim...

Here's your towel.

See ya later, Kev.

Bollocks.

Yes, hold on a minute, please.

Thank you.

- That's it. How's that feel, then?

- Awful.

- What do you mean?

- You've gotta bring it in here.

I could bring it in...

- All right, there, Dan?

- All right, Jim.

- Hands out, please.

- Stop f***ing about...

Look here,

don't you use that language in here.

If you're gonna talk like that,

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Dave Humphries

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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