Ex Drummer (2007) - full transcript
Every village has its band of fools, trying to get to the top, following their idols in drug habits, but staying losers till the end of their pathetic days. They all do this in the name of rock & roll. Three disabled rock musicians are looking for a drummer. Dries, a well known writer, seems the right guy for the job, were it not for the fact that his only handicap is that he can't play the drums. He joins the group as a perfect, but evil god walking down his mountain to play with the populace. With the arrival of this infiltrator, personal disputes and family feuds start to jeopardize the band's fragile future. Dries will manipulate them till they are willing to drink each others blood and their only future is written down in many Punk lyrics: "No Future".
Bunch of wankers!
Now you're gonna hear some real music!
Well, well, look who it is.
Are you writing another book?
Yes.
- I've read all your books.
What's the title going to be?
- The 12.07 train.
Is it going to be another thick book?
Yes. In the first chapter
it's running half an hour late.
Who is?
- Your brain tumour.
Oh. Is it going to be a thick book?
- Yes.
Have you got a title already?
Goodbye, I'm going.
- Oh. Good title.
Been giving someone a blowjob?
Listen, ma of all managers.
Tell Stef Vanneste to announce us
as The Feminists, four handicapped
guys from Ostend. OK?
There may be women or faggots
in the jury. That helps.
Rub that red muck off your face.
People will start wondering.
Found yourself a new victim?
Fuck you!
Fuckin' hell!
My dick's caught in my zip!
Fuck! My dick's caught in it!
My dick's caught in my fuckin' zip!
Next on are Funeral Dress!
And you can all kiss my arse!
Leffinge!
Bunch of bastards!
The following band has come straight
from Ostend!
Four handicapped guys.
The Feminists.
You with the exploded mattress
on your head, you're just an arsehole!
Leffinge!
We're gonna do some damage!
That was crap music! Fuckin' crap music!
And now the jury's going to decide
who's the winner.
Meanwhile, we're going to listen to
the biggest tosser in Belgium,
the biggest tosser who thinks
he's gonna be a hit in France,
here is Aldo!
We don't need to go on and on about it.
Only one band is good enough
and that's Harry Mulisch.
I don't agree.
Hear it once and it sticks in your head.
- Let it stick, it makes no difference.
It's rubbish. Useless.
I don't know. It's got shit potential.
The Feminists were the only ones
who were any good. They should win.
They're handicapped,
they could use some help.
That's one argument.
- Come off it, handicapped!
Vanhegen is handicapped, yeah right!
Handicapped my arse!
If he's handicapped, I'm a nun.
- You're a nun.
D'you know what? Heads or tails.
I'm off.
- It's always the same.
Heads or tails.
- Yes, heads or tails.
OK. We'll sort it out like that.
Then that's it.
Tails is The Feminists.
If I can manage it.
Up it goes. Oops!
The Feminists have won, guys.
- It's heads. It's Mulisch.
No, it's not. I'm telling you,
The Feminists have won!
What's up with you?
I'm telling you, The Feminists have won.
Bunch of arseholes!
Stop throwing beakers!
Here comes the result of the fuckin'
rock competition here in Leffinge.
Leffinge that votes for my father.
And my father is a big fat arsehole,
who doesn't know the difference between
a right-wing cunt and a left-wing cock.
Stop that! Or d'you want me
to come and smash your face in?
Here comes the result.
In third place, Six Million Jews.
In second place, Harry Mulisch.
And in first place, The Feminists!
Come up on stage, guys. Come here.
I've got some questions for you.
Come here.
How come you're famous
with such a stupid kisser?
A few days later Verbeek phoned me
and asked me to call round.
He sounded quite official, saying The
Feminists had a meeting at 8 o'clock.
I had to laugh.
I said, "Feminists? What fuckin'
Feminists? Are you off your rocker?
Have you been devoured
by your bald mother?"
He just said, "Our manager has got
other plans. 8 o'clock. See you then."
I went. I was curious.
I knew what they were up to but I was
curious to hear how they'd put it.
Lio said I should go,
that it'd probably be embarrassing
and I could then tell her all about it.
Lio loves listening to my stories.
I went in. I could only just
stop myself from puking.
I told Ma Verbeek she was crazy.
I told them the whole thing
had been a silly joke on my part,
that had lasted a bit too long.
Everyone started shouting and screaming.
Jimmy shouted that
he would finally be a drummer.
In short, Jimmy became the new drummer
and Stef Vanneste the new singer.
Everyone seemed determined.
Ma Verbeek couldn't be budged either.
I said that they'd forgotten one thing,
one detail
that the drum was mine and
I could do what I wanted with it.
I think they understood.
Do you wear a wig?
I didn't know that.
Later that evening I heard
Harry Mulisch's single on the radio.
And it was then
that Christine phoned me.
I told her about the King of Siam,
that his wives had left him four times.
It wasn't because he didn't show them
any love or friendship or affection.
He was the perfect husband to each wife.
The only problem was his tool.
A dick that I could only compare to one
I'd recently seen at a rock festival.
I told her the singer from Harry Mulisch
dropped his trousers.
And that at that moment all I could
think of was the King of Siam's dick.
Christine started breathing heavily
while I told her
that we then talked to Big Dick
about poetry, literature,
politics and relationships. And after
a quarter of an hour I'd forgotten
about the monster
between the guy's legs.
She asked me
if I could arrange for her to meet him.
I said I couldn't promise anything
but that I'd do my best.
What are you doing here, man?
- It's nice and clean here again.
I had an illegal black woman yesterday.
Strange, eh? That a black woman's blood
is as red as ours?
It tastes a bit different. More sour.
But she had a fat cunt. That was fine.
- Yeah, De Geyter.
What about Ma Verbeek? Eh?
What?
- Still got her on your mind?
What d'you think?
Of course I've still got her on my mind.
What's it to you?
- Fuck all.
But there's Pa Verbeek, all locked up.
- What about the lunatic?
What if we were to let him out?
- What?
It's a stupid idea, but I'd love to see
Ma Verbeek's face if she comes home
and he's not lying there, tied up,
but jumps out from behind the hedge
or is sitting at the kitchen table.
She'd piss herself. Great idea!
Why didn't I think of it?
When?
- Now.
The Feminists are performing in a bar
and their manager's always with them.
That guy's lying there all alone.
Right. OK. Fine. Let's do it.
There's one problem.
- What?
We'll have to break in.
Have you got a key?
Of course I have.
I'm having an affair with the woman.
I fuck her day and night.
We'll go separately. If it goes wrong,
we'll escape separately.
You've prepared this, eh?
- No.
Turn the light off.
- Put it back on, Koen.
Use your brain.
Who lives round here? No one.
Turn it on.
You're crazy, man.
Yeah, sometimes. When it suits me.
Let me trash the place.
- Don't be stupid!
I feel like trashing...
- OK, OK.
I've got another idea.
Where is the old geezer?
Upstairs.
Straight ahead.
Wait a minute, it's locked.
Undo him.
Show that you're a man.
I'm thirsty.
- Let's get out of here.
Let's a have a drink first.
- He'll be down any minute.
We've got plenty of time.
What d'you want, Dries? Wine? Gin?
A beer.
Ma Verbeek.
She treated me like shit sometimes.
She whipped me, had a filthy mouth.
But she paid me attention,
gave me affection.
I'm satisfied with that.
From the age of twelve I cycled to
the factory every day on my little bike.
At that time
they didn't talk about child labour.
Rich children went to school
and the trash had to go to work.
Now they make a big fuss about it.
But they shouldn't forget that
our county was built on that.
I'm proud of that.
I'm HIV positive. I've got AIDS.
I've had everyone I can.
I don't want to die alone.
They can all come with me.
I've even had a woman.
I used to play football.
I enjoyed that.
Especially afterwards.
In the shower.
With all the boys from my team.
I liked them all.
But when I got older,
then...
Then it became a problem.
I always got a hard-on.
The others didn't like that.
I had to leave.
Jan.
Jan.
Jan.
Fifty centimetres when it's asleep.
Imagine that between your legs,
as a woman.
But they all came back.
I don't know why.
A sort of sick curiosity, maybe?
But they didn't want to fuck,
just give me a blowjob.
But I got so fed up with that
after a while.
They were soon lying
on their back again.
I don't know. A big dick,
all men want that. They can have mine.
When I was six
I often had sex with my father.
He wasn't a minister then.
And...
I can clearly remember the feeling of
that big, fat dick inside of me.
At that time
that dick seemed gigantic to me.
And...
I've carried on searching
for that feeling.
In fact, I've got him
to thank for everything.
Loser!
Now you're gonna hear some real music!
Well, well, look who it is.
Are you writing another book?
Yes.
- I've read all your books.
What's the title going to be?
- The 12.07 train.
Is it going to be another thick book?
Yes. In the first chapter
it's running half an hour late.
Who is?
- Your brain tumour.
Oh. Is it going to be a thick book?
- Yes.
Have you got a title already?
Goodbye, I'm going.
- Oh. Good title.
Been giving someone a blowjob?
Listen, ma of all managers.
Tell Stef Vanneste to announce us
as The Feminists, four handicapped
guys from Ostend. OK?
There may be women or faggots
in the jury. That helps.
Rub that red muck off your face.
People will start wondering.
Found yourself a new victim?
Fuck you!
Fuckin' hell!
My dick's caught in my zip!
Fuck! My dick's caught in it!
My dick's caught in my fuckin' zip!
Next on are Funeral Dress!
And you can all kiss my arse!
Leffinge!
Bunch of bastards!
The following band has come straight
from Ostend!
Four handicapped guys.
The Feminists.
You with the exploded mattress
on your head, you're just an arsehole!
Leffinge!
We're gonna do some damage!
That was crap music! Fuckin' crap music!
And now the jury's going to decide
who's the winner.
Meanwhile, we're going to listen to
the biggest tosser in Belgium,
the biggest tosser who thinks
he's gonna be a hit in France,
here is Aldo!
We don't need to go on and on about it.
Only one band is good enough
and that's Harry Mulisch.
I don't agree.
Hear it once and it sticks in your head.
- Let it stick, it makes no difference.
It's rubbish. Useless.
I don't know. It's got shit potential.
The Feminists were the only ones
who were any good. They should win.
They're handicapped,
they could use some help.
That's one argument.
- Come off it, handicapped!
Vanhegen is handicapped, yeah right!
Handicapped my arse!
If he's handicapped, I'm a nun.
- You're a nun.
D'you know what? Heads or tails.
I'm off.
- It's always the same.
Heads or tails.
- Yes, heads or tails.
OK. We'll sort it out like that.
Then that's it.
Tails is The Feminists.
If I can manage it.
Up it goes. Oops!
The Feminists have won, guys.
- It's heads. It's Mulisch.
No, it's not. I'm telling you,
The Feminists have won!
What's up with you?
I'm telling you, The Feminists have won.
Bunch of arseholes!
Stop throwing beakers!
Here comes the result of the fuckin'
rock competition here in Leffinge.
Leffinge that votes for my father.
And my father is a big fat arsehole,
who doesn't know the difference between
a right-wing cunt and a left-wing cock.
Stop that! Or d'you want me
to come and smash your face in?
Here comes the result.
In third place, Six Million Jews.
In second place, Harry Mulisch.
And in first place, The Feminists!
Come up on stage, guys. Come here.
I've got some questions for you.
Come here.
How come you're famous
with such a stupid kisser?
A few days later Verbeek phoned me
and asked me to call round.
He sounded quite official, saying The
Feminists had a meeting at 8 o'clock.
I had to laugh.
I said, "Feminists? What fuckin'
Feminists? Are you off your rocker?
Have you been devoured
by your bald mother?"
He just said, "Our manager has got
other plans. 8 o'clock. See you then."
I went. I was curious.
I knew what they were up to but I was
curious to hear how they'd put it.
Lio said I should go,
that it'd probably be embarrassing
and I could then tell her all about it.
Lio loves listening to my stories.
I went in. I could only just
stop myself from puking.
I told Ma Verbeek she was crazy.
I told them the whole thing
had been a silly joke on my part,
that had lasted a bit too long.
Everyone started shouting and screaming.
Jimmy shouted that
he would finally be a drummer.
In short, Jimmy became the new drummer
and Stef Vanneste the new singer.
Everyone seemed determined.
Ma Verbeek couldn't be budged either.
I said that they'd forgotten one thing,
one detail
that the drum was mine and
I could do what I wanted with it.
I think they understood.
Do you wear a wig?
I didn't know that.
Later that evening I heard
Harry Mulisch's single on the radio.
And it was then
that Christine phoned me.
I told her about the King of Siam,
that his wives had left him four times.
It wasn't because he didn't show them
any love or friendship or affection.
He was the perfect husband to each wife.
The only problem was his tool.
A dick that I could only compare to one
I'd recently seen at a rock festival.
I told her the singer from Harry Mulisch
dropped his trousers.
And that at that moment all I could
think of was the King of Siam's dick.
Christine started breathing heavily
while I told her
that we then talked to Big Dick
about poetry, literature,
politics and relationships. And after
a quarter of an hour I'd forgotten
about the monster
between the guy's legs.
She asked me
if I could arrange for her to meet him.
I said I couldn't promise anything
but that I'd do my best.
What are you doing here, man?
- It's nice and clean here again.
I had an illegal black woman yesterday.
Strange, eh? That a black woman's blood
is as red as ours?
It tastes a bit different. More sour.
But she had a fat cunt. That was fine.
- Yeah, De Geyter.
What about Ma Verbeek? Eh?
What?
- Still got her on your mind?
What d'you think?
Of course I've still got her on my mind.
What's it to you?
- Fuck all.
But there's Pa Verbeek, all locked up.
- What about the lunatic?
What if we were to let him out?
- What?
It's a stupid idea, but I'd love to see
Ma Verbeek's face if she comes home
and he's not lying there, tied up,
but jumps out from behind the hedge
or is sitting at the kitchen table.
She'd piss herself. Great idea!
Why didn't I think of it?
When?
- Now.
The Feminists are performing in a bar
and their manager's always with them.
That guy's lying there all alone.
Right. OK. Fine. Let's do it.
There's one problem.
- What?
We'll have to break in.
Have you got a key?
Of course I have.
I'm having an affair with the woman.
I fuck her day and night.
We'll go separately. If it goes wrong,
we'll escape separately.
You've prepared this, eh?
- No.
Turn the light off.
- Put it back on, Koen.
Use your brain.
Who lives round here? No one.
Turn it on.
You're crazy, man.
Yeah, sometimes. When it suits me.
Let me trash the place.
- Don't be stupid!
I feel like trashing...
- OK, OK.
I've got another idea.
Where is the old geezer?
Upstairs.
Straight ahead.
Wait a minute, it's locked.
Undo him.
Show that you're a man.
I'm thirsty.
- Let's get out of here.
Let's a have a drink first.
- He'll be down any minute.
We've got plenty of time.
What d'you want, Dries? Wine? Gin?
A beer.
Ma Verbeek.
She treated me like shit sometimes.
She whipped me, had a filthy mouth.
But she paid me attention,
gave me affection.
I'm satisfied with that.
From the age of twelve I cycled to
the factory every day on my little bike.
At that time
they didn't talk about child labour.
Rich children went to school
and the trash had to go to work.
Now they make a big fuss about it.
But they shouldn't forget that
our county was built on that.
I'm proud of that.
I'm HIV positive. I've got AIDS.
I've had everyone I can.
I don't want to die alone.
They can all come with me.
I've even had a woman.
I used to play football.
I enjoyed that.
Especially afterwards.
In the shower.
With all the boys from my team.
I liked them all.
But when I got older,
then...
Then it became a problem.
I always got a hard-on.
The others didn't like that.
I had to leave.
Jan.
Jan.
Jan.
Fifty centimetres when it's asleep.
Imagine that between your legs,
as a woman.
But they all came back.
I don't know why.
A sort of sick curiosity, maybe?
But they didn't want to fuck,
just give me a blowjob.
But I got so fed up with that
after a while.
They were soon lying
on their back again.
I don't know. A big dick,
all men want that. They can have mine.
When I was six
I often had sex with my father.
He wasn't a minister then.
And...
I can clearly remember the feeling of
that big, fat dick inside of me.
At that time
that dick seemed gigantic to me.
And...
I've carried on searching
for that feeling.
In fact, I've got him
to thank for everything.
Loser!