Punk's Not Dead (Панкот не е мртов)

You have somethin'?

Do you or do you not?

No, no...

Milka!

Don't you make a monkey out of me.

Where are you going, you dirt? Where?

Give me back my wallet, you gangster.

Give it! I'm gonna call the cops.

No, you're not.

-No? -No.

Mrs. Milka, do you need any help? -Go away, you faggot.

C'mon, give it to me.

Take 300, leave 200 for me. -What do you need it for?

I'm gonna make pastry for supper. -You're lyin'.

Milka, your nose is growin'.

Don't, Milka!

Better than nothing.

My name is Mirsa.

They call me ''The Late Mirsa''.

Actually, that is what I nicknamed myself.

Up until 17 years ago I had a band,

a Punk band.

We were No. 1 punks in the country.

Since then, I'm living on old glory. And on ''chasing my own tale''

as my grandfather used to say, God rest his soul.

At the time we were playn', Skopje was a city.

A city that lives...

It is a grave now...

It lay dead, underneath that Cross they built on Mt. Vodno.

Where did you get that shit?

I bought it.

My dealer's name is Gzim.

He's an Albanian.

Can you stop that?

We call him Jero.

The chicks say he's got an irresistible childish smile.

I don't know... We don't like each other much.

Turn left here.

But, that's not 'cause we're an Albanian and a Macedonian,

enemies by default,

like, hate between Muslims and Christians, that kind of stuff.

Well, I don't give a flyin' fuck 'bout that.

I swear, during the fuckin' war

in 2001 between 'us and them' I was so high,

so I had no idea who's shooting and whom,

and what the hell is goin' on.

Hey, c'mon, we're late!

Hey, fag, they're waiting on us!

Jero and I, we respect each other, sure.

I help him dealing; I find clients for him.

Hey, you punk..

You know, kids that are into the music thing.

Honk at him. -He gives me a price cut.

Sometimes he doesn't even charge me.

We divide the labor; he works with Albanian kids,

I work with Macedonian kids.

But, he thinks I'm a surplus, a simple excess.

I know that he's only interested in cash.

Two different worlds, fuck it.

Take.

You're putting my ass on the line, man.

And you're doing me a favor.

Jero remembers.

There's gonna be some cash in for you guys, too.

I'm gonna wait on you until the day after tomorrow,

until Wednesday.

Wednesday!

Believe it or not, I got an offer for a gig.

He said it would totally change my life.

It's a simple deal: I gather my band and we hit the road.

I feel like playing so much, I wanna cry.

We haven't performed in 17 years.

They're diggin' us out of the grave.

Cool. Except, the gig is in Debar, a town of fuckin' Albanians.

When this gets out in town, I'm gonna find myself

in some serious shit.

Besides, it is sponsored by some fucking NGO.

Anti-war vultures, ethnic relaxation, bite my ass.

Take it or leave it.

Fuck it, at least Jero's honest. None of our bands didn't want

to take them up on it, so I'm their last chance.

Last chance, my ass. Piss on it.

For me?

You bought it...

You've given money for this stupid stuff.

And, as if this shit wasn't enough, Milka started getting' on my ass

sayin' that I was just like my old man - a man of doubts.

Maybe she's right.

And My dad I remember him or not.

I was very young when he left us.

He fled to Australia with a new woman.

He hasn't called since.

Milka doesn't mention him, and I don't ask about him.

I don't know Probably, I don't give a shit.

Milka and I...

We live our own lives... and it's working.

She lives on chasing her own tail as well.

Where's the pastry, Milka? -Who? What?

They ran out of flour at the grocery.

Gosh, you've been smoking that shit again.

Go away, you stink. Go... God will punish you.

I can't. -Don't be such a wimper... c'mon.

Don't do this to me.

Can I help you, gentlemen? -We're together with them.

Do you have an invihtion? -It's OK, chief.

This is not the one, is he? -I hope not.

A freakin' party with not a living soul in it.

A fake glamour.

I used to enjoy watchin' the system crashin' down.

Now, that's a bore to me.

Hi.

Mirsa...

himself.

The man is a punk legend in town.

Number one.

But, Gzim, darling, you know what Debar's like.

Just try to picture this guy there.

Oh, you're gonna tell me what Debar is like?

Fifteen bands have blown us off, we're takin' a phony action.

Stop undermining me, please.

We are too deep in this shit.

Do you speak English? -He's tired. He's tired.

Works all day and plays at night.

You know, your life style fits like a glove in our program.

Jero!

DTY...

Democracy, Tolerance, Youth.

Be serious, darlin' I'm 40. Next month.

It's OK. I'll cut the bull shit. I know what Punk is like.

The event is in a week, so, if you need anything,

Gzim will find it for you.

Instruments, equipment...

Are you in?

Actually, I'm still out. I'm not sure.

Jero, come on... -He's joking, of course.

Jero... -The man is an anarchist.

He enjoys making drama.

I don't bite. You're so sweet.

You look like...

like Sid Vicious...

Give me that.

This is crazy, bro, I swear. A gig? Hello!

What's he sayin'? How much are we getting?

He's not saying anything.

Are we goin' to snatch 200 euros per person? Huh?

Bro, I really don't get your dilemma.

How long we haven't played? Huh?

You really helped me indeed. Like a fucking expert!

Bro, I'm gonna say no to him. Fuck him.

Do you have money for beer, bro?

No. -Then say no to him.

Why are you lookin' at me?

'Cause you are so beautiful, you fuckin' monkey-faced asshole.

Hey, stupid, think about it.

We're going to perform. What else is important? Tell me.

We're gonna have to spit on our whole image.

Spit on what? Our image? -Yes.

Hey bro, have you seen your self lately?

It's stupid. That's all we have left.

Image? -Yes.

We've an image left?

You are out of your mind.

You're out of your mind...

an image...

fool...

Shut up.

Ljak's been my best friend since I can remember.

He's the drummer, we've been playing together.

I know I am no better,

but he totally remained a kid inside. A kid, a real little brat.

I really love him.

A lot.

Why are you lookin' at me?

Do I make you feel sick? A lowlife?

Mind your business. Shame on you. See what you look like.

Mirsa, bro, do you jerk off?

Say it I asked you if you spanked it.

I can't get a hard-on.

At least, tell me if you can get it hard. -Shut up, it's impolite.

There are cunts here.

Shame on you two.

I really can't get it up. But I would really like to jerk off.

I would spank it -What would you spank?

My dick, of course.

I would spank it hard until it wears off.

But, it's not usable.

You idiot, you drove out the cunts.

There you go.

It's looking good, relax. -It's a little tight.

It's perfect. The way it should be.

I needed a bigger size. -You're looking great.

You look like a prince. -A prince? I'm a condom.

Nonsense! You know, there aren't only

roles of princes in theatre.

A real condom. -So what if you are a condom?

Somebody has to play the part of a condom as well.

You're looking great.

Where is Gzim?

Jero -Hey, bro.

Remember, Sid?