Hello.
Thank you.
The judges of the 23rd Annual Midwestern Piano Competition
have asked me to reassert that their task this year
has been particularly difficult.
Third prize, a bronze medal and a check for $250,
goes to Paul Dietrich of Chicago, Illinois.
All that means to me is you got robbed.
Now you gotta get ready for San Francisco, right?
The Hillman Competition.
You are gonna send them a cassette, aren't you?
What is the point?
Well, what's the point of not sending it?
If I can't do any better than placing third in Cincinnati,
what am I wasting my time for?
The Hillman is the Super Bowl, right?
Yeah.
So, what is the point?
The point is that Lowengarth told us
you were the best pianist for your age he ever heard.
What was my age when he told us that?
How many dollars ago was that?
I don't advise you about your playing,
don't advise me about my finances.
Let him talk, Stan.
Where's the medal?
Can we emerge from the shrine, please?
I would like to talk to the both of you.
You shouldn't be working, and you know it.
And you wouldn't be if it weren't for me.
And this has got to stop.
Childhood is at an end.
Therefore?
Therefore, I have made a decision.
There is a job opening up in the city school systems.
It happens to be in my field, in music.
Now, it does involve a certain amount of substitute teaching.
Group piano classes, music theory.
However, it also allows me
to work with student orchestras around the city,
developing new talent.
You know, the kind of thing that my training
has equipped me to do, and that I enjoy.
Like your friend, Gary.
Like my friend, Gary.
Now, Gary says that if I am who my resume says I am,
I have the job.
Now, it pays $12,000 a year, plus car allowance.
And I have to be fingerprinted.
Come on, you ran into a little bad luck in Cincinnati.
If it was meant to happen, it would have happened by now.
Now we're into astrology.
You.
You got this thing.
Now, maybe it's a curse, maybe it's a blessing,
but you don't have to go much further than the New Testament
to know what "He" expects you to do with a talent.
Who's he pointing at? Have you finally rented out my room?
I'm sorry.
One beat, each note.
You can do it.
Keep going, one, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
Okay? Keep it going. One note, one beat.
One, two, three.
One, two, three, four.
One note, an octave higher.
C, C. D, D. Keep on going.
One, two, three, four.
Keep going.
How long have you been standing out there?
Has he gone to work?
Yes.
First of all, I want you to know
that I really did make this application.
I mean, I sent it in even before I went to Cincinnati.
Now...
I want you to understand.
I will be back before the personal interview.
So, there will be an end to this situation, win, lose or draw.
Win, lose or draw, what, Paul?
I have to take one last shot at competing.
The Arabella Hillman Competition in San Francisco.
No cattle call, you submit a cassette.
And if they like it, you're immediately one of 12 semi-finalists.
Whittled down to six finalists.
First prize, $20,000,
a Carnegie Hall recital, and two years' of concert bookings.
Also a medal, which will turn your tits a lovely shade of puce.
Am I ready for this?
I've been waiting for you to tell me.
I don't think you ever will.
You are ready, and afraid. Like any virgin.
Who's a virgin?
Sorry.
That used to be a compliment.
Greta, they want a cassette submitted, it's too late.
Nope. I submitted the cassette.
What cassette?
The one I recorded and put your name on.
I played the Kreisleriana.
It was poignant, searching, surprisingly strong,
and a little simple-minded. It sounded just like you.
Is that sort of thing done?
All the time.
Congratulations, we made it.
Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning
our final descent into San Francisco.
Please extinguish all smoking materials,
replace tray tables,
and bring your seats to an upright position.
Excuse me. Miss?
What?
Time to close the piano. We're landing.
Oh God, how embarrassing.
Have I been doing that long?
It was fascinating. Are you a musician?
Good question.
I need a single for a week.
Yes, sir.
Your room service goes 24 hours?
No, we don't have any room service here, sir.
I knew that.
Hey, you one of the 12 Apostles? Me too.
I'm scared out of my tiny mind. My whole family's here.
I told them I didn't stand a chance,
but they wouldn't stay away.
I'm from New York. Direct from New York, like the Yankees.
How about you?
I think you're what my teacher told me to shun.
Who me? Well, I'll see you inside.
How you doing? I'm Jerry DiSalvo.
You one of the 12 Apostles?
I'm here for a piano competition.
That's what I meant. Me too.
I'm scared out of my tiny mind. How about you?
Hey, you know how I learned to play piano?
This faggot in the House of Corrections.
He heard me fooling around one day,
so he made me take lessons.
You don't want to know how many times I got stopped.
It looks like I came a long way for nothing.
Tell me you're not entered.
I'm entered.
You're so bloody good!
And you also do not remember me,
and I'm now feeling very foolish.
The Tanglewood Festival, two summers ago?
You were on a scholarship.
I was on a parentship.
- Heidi Schoonover. - Paul Dietrich.
I know your name.
Well, I knew yours.
You're entered?
Good for you.
You were going to compete in Brussels.
- I did. - And?
And I'm here.
It's crazy. You're so gifted.
We all thought so. It's nice seeing you again.
I hope...
What can you hope for and be honest?
I hope we tie?
You coming in?
No, I have to make a stop.
That is the one they used to call Joanie.
You have no time for her.
Anything that eats into your concentration
even a little bit is no good.
Used to call her Joanie.
You have no time for her.
Anything that eats into your concentration
even a little bit is no good.
Joanie.
You have no time for her.
Anything that eats into your concentration
even a little bit is no good.
Shut up!
Sorry.
Mr. Rudko,
I am truly appreciative.
They give you any shit?
What, a soupcon?
I'm sorry, Mr. Rudko.
I've got no pockets at the moment. Can I sign something?
It's okay, Mr. Humphries,
I'm still shaking from the tip when you first checked in.
I'll let you know if you use it up.
Now, you sure?
Mr. Humphries' room.
One minute. Don't get up!
Tatjana!
Good morning.
Hey!
I'm gonna try this one more time.
We do know each other.
Not well, but we played two-piano
at the Tanglewood Festival for an hour.
You went to my recital and I went to yours.
Now, it occurs to me, I hadn't come to terms with my first name.
I was going by my middle name, Joan.
Everyone called me Joanie,
which is what helped me come to terms with "Heidi."
Let's see, what else.
Oh, yeah, you played Gaspard de la nuit.
And Franco Maneri said it was magical.
And if you're thinking, "I see",
"this little snerd had an itch for me"
"at the Tanglewood Festival two years ago."
You couldn't be wronger. I had an itch for Marshall Goldman,
who turned out to be gay, big surprise.
As for you, I agreed with Signor Maneri.
I also thought it was too bad
a guy as young as you already had a receding hairline.
Plus I also thought you had an itch for me.
So, when I say "hello,"
it comes with some expectation of response
and a background of familiarity.
God, aren't you even going to smile?
What concerto are you gonna play if you reach the finals?
You wanna talk shop? We'll talk shop, but answer my question first.
Why? You seem quite capable of answering your own questions.
Did you?
Did I what?
God, forget it. Have a wonderful day.
Did you have an itch for me?
Nope.
It was Marshall Goldman, right from the start.
Not a chance. I think you did,
and I think you possibly still do.
You see?
You do answer your own questions.
What do you need me for?
I don't.
God, what the hell's happened to you?
Come on, Mitzi, get it over with.
They've all seen the dress.
Thank you.
That's good.
If there was an easy one, that was it.
Yes. A pleasure.
Thank you.
They're ready.
And now I would like to introduce
our principle conductor, Mr. Andrew Erskine.
Ladies and gentlemen, we will announce the six finalists
as per tradition, alphabetically, place of origin first.
And please withhold your applause
until I've announced all six.
Contestants, when I call your name,
please join me here on the stage.
Now from... We begin with a real tongue twister.
From Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan,
Autonomous Socialist Republic, USSR,
Tatjana Baronova.
From Chicago, Illinois, Paul Dietrich.
From the Bronx, New York...
I knew you could do it!
Gerolamo DiSalvo.
Yeah! All right, Jerry!
Born in Wilmington, Delaware,
currently residing in Venice, Italy,
Michael Humphries.
From Montreal, Province of Quebec, Canada,
Mark Landau.
And finally...
From Newton Highlands, Massachusetts,
Heidi Joan Schoonover.
Ladies and gentlemen, the finalists.
All right, Jerry! Yeah!
Way to go!
All right, Jerry!
As we begin this business,
I'd like to make a small apology.
This method of selecting the order
in which you play in the finals,
is one that was begun by my predecessor.
It's highly inconvenient for the orchestra,
but the Philharmonic Association believes in magic,
and I cannot persuade them to abandon the ritual.
Now, my plan is to get through rehearsals
of all six concerti in one day,
that day being tomorrow, commencing at 9:00.
I'm not going to play through the entire work.
This will only be for cueing and for emphasis.
So I want all of you in here.
When the orchestra's ready for you, we'll call you.
And please let the music librarian know by 4:00 today
what concerto you'll be playing.
Congratulations, once again.
No doubt you've all heard the story about the two conductors.
The first conductor goes...
Who got number one? Excuse me.
What concerto are you playing?
Liszt, E-flat.
I'm number two, if you'll pardon the expression.
Saint-Saens.
The Brahms' First.
Well, if nobody's dying to play the Chopin E Minor,
I'll settle for it.
Well, the Mozart D Major. Or the Prokofiev Third. I'm still juggling.
I'm number six.
And I am also planning the Saint-Saens.
It's a good showcase.
Especially if you're playing last.
Yeah, position in life is everything.
Almost everything.
But I'll tell you the truth. I am the over-anxious type.
I... I'd just as soon play the first night and get it over with.
So unless you're emotionally wedded to the second spot,
why don't we swap numbers?
Then you can have the Saint-Saens, all to yourself.
Yeah, okay.
And what will you struggle along with then, Mr. Dietrich?
- I'm gonna try the Emperor again. - Again?
Tatjana would like to give her love and best wishes
for success to all of you.
And ours to her, madame.
Picked out a piano yet?
They only got four to choose from.
I've got to decide on the concerto first.
Hey, see this?
You were very straightforward with the reporter, weren't you?
- Why'd you stop at reform school? - Hey!
Why didn't you tell them you were the Son of Sam?
I didn't say nothing about reform school.
He drew his own conclusions.
I said I was in trouble when I was a kid.
- You liar! - Well, how does it make the rest of us look?
Hey! All right, look, I'm trying to find a hook,
a way of picking me out of the crowd.
You don't know anything about publicity.
That's no lie.
I'm looking for a handle, that's all.
A hook? A handle?
You play like an angel. Isn't that enough?
No. We all play like angels.
But the little Russian kid's got big baby browns
and they dress her up two years younger than she is.
And when we got interviewed,
who do you think they wanted to talk to the most?
You got no shame, you know that?
- Hey, watch your mouth. - Just shut up.
Nice face.
"It was like Beethoven was showing me a way out of the ghetto."
Wait!
Wait till your Uncle Frank finds out
he's been living in the ghetto for 30 years.
Would you guys be quiet?
I don't want to hear this and neither do the damn neighbors!
- Hey, you... - Hey, keep that door open!
Did you hear what I said? Get your feet off the sheets.
- That's one hell of a picture. - It looks great.
Here, lookit. I got an article. Nobody else did.
Hey, what does "checkered past" mean?
It means I was in trouble. I made it up...
You did say you went to reform school, didn't you?
You did lie.
You go to confession this afternoon,
or I'm never talking to you again, you hear me?
I will. I was going to.
Yeah, I was going with him, Ma.
No wonder that sweet, young woman
don't want nothing to do with you.
She's frigid.
When did you find out?
Almost immediately.
I asked Josephine Rinaldi to go to the semifinals,
and she called me the minute your name was announced.
I thought you might like to see a friendly face.
Now, let's get you packed.
- Where are we going? - Josephine has a huge studio.
Two pianos and five beds.
She's led quite a life if it comes to that.
Anyway, it's ours for the duration.
When do you have your first rehearsal with the maestro?
Tomorrow afternoon.
What do you think of him?
Very formidable.
Nothing at all like he is on television.
He's a shit.
Maybe that was the word I was searching for.
Aren't you glad I'm here?
Yes, ma'am.
$3.90.
- There are you. Thank you. - Thank you.
She brought everything from New York.
This is a temple, Heidi.
God, I hate that name. It sounds even worse in here.
She told me the way you played the Waldstein
made her forget her sciatica.
She said that?
Ludwig von Beethoven taught Carl Czerny...
Who taught...
Leschetizky,
who taught Schnabel,
who taught Rinaldi,
who taught me.
And now the sixth pianist in a direct line from Beethoven
in standing here staring at me
in her Jordan Marsh mix-and-match.
You shouldn't smoke.
If we lived in a world of sanity,
no one would even expect you to start concertizing
until you were in your late 20s,
so you could keep studying and enlarging the repertoire
and deepening as a person,
and growing up to be a national treasure.
But... If you waited that long, no one would ever book you.
They want you fresh out of the egg or not at all.
They must waste 500 good pianists a year that way.
We will try to see this does not happen to you.
The action's wonderful,
but all these middle-register keys need voicing.
The pianos will be tuned by curtain time Saturday night.
But not voiced?
No, Miss Schoonover.
So why bother tuning these instruments in the first place?
They will be out of tune by intermission anyway.
Mr. Dietrich, we're not quite ready for you.
It's all right. I've decided this one will be fine.
Do not let me rush you.
I'm not letting you do anything.
Just sign here, please.
Is it absolutely necessary for you to stand over me
while I'm making this selection?
I'll be more than happy to wait outside.
Thank you.
All you had to do was ask...
politely.
Sorry. I'm leaving.
It's okay. It's okay.
I see you stopped juggling. You're gonna play the Mozart.
Oh, yeah.
Your parents having a good time?
- I suppose. - It's nice that they could come.
My mother's threatened to,
- but I'll believe it when I see it. - Why is it nice?
Support.
My teacher's here.
She's moved me into Josephine Rinaldi's studio.
It's a wonderful old house that sort of scowls down on the rest of Vallejo Street.
How did she manage that?
She was her star pupil. Greta Vandemann?
Are you studying with Greta Vandemann?
I was when we first met, too, remember?
- Never mind. May I ask you something? - Sure.
Were you really planning to play the Saint-Saens,
or were you just trying to frighten poor Jerry into trading spots with you?
You know, I think it's real nice how protective you are of him.
He looks like he must be a heck of a lot of fun to be with.
He has a sensational body.
And no receding hairline?
And no receding hairline. Why are we talking like this?
Paul, outside of nerves,
is there anything terribly wrong with you?
I mean, I want to do two things every time I see you.
One is cry, the other one is smack you around.
There is nothing terribly wrong.
It's just that you have to have blinders on
when you prepare for one of these things, that's all.
Why would you want to cry?
Mr. Dietrich, have you decided?
Sign here, please.
Off to practice?
Where else?
A real old-fashioned charmer, isn't he?
He plays piano like one anyway.
All right, there doesn't seem to be anything tricky until about bar 310.
- Let's take it from three bars before... - Excuse me?
Could... I'm sorry.
Could we have a review of the transition into the rondo?
Well, we take that from you, Mr. Dietrich.
I understand, but it seems to me
that when the strings were answering me,
that you were slowing down there.
Are you indicating a sostenuto there?
That's what I thought.
And what else do you think, Mr. Dietrich?
I think that that is the wrong approach for this ensemble.
Have you spent a lot of time with Beethoven, Mr. Dietrich?
I mean, was he an old friend of the family?
Maybe he told you something about his tempi that we all don't know.
But I see no metronome marking here.
What I do see is allegro ma non frigging troppo.
Which, when I went to school,
meant lively, but not too lively.
The meaning hasn't changed, but when I went to school, allegro was a relative term.
Brownell, how many times have I conducted this concerto?
More than 200.
And how many times have you played it?
Six.
And I have misread it, too,
just the way you did over 200 times.
The only difference being that I began to get a hint that something was wrong,
and I kept studying, and kept working, and kept listening.
And kept open to it.
You've played it six times.
How often have you conducted it?
I am not a conductor and I do not claim to be one.
Well, let's complete your education.
Don't tell me that you've never worked from a full score before.
- I have conducted, Mr. Erskine. - Well, then, come on!
Prove your point.
We're all waiting.
Now here's what I feel.
I am just looking for a kind of a rhythmic precision to set up what is coming.
Seconds and violas, if you could be just leggiero.
We needn't work so hard.
The wrist, rather than the elbow.
From bar 275 and following,
I would appreciate it if we could all exaggerate the sforzando.
It seems to me that Beethoven
wants these accents to jump out at you, you know?
So, we will pick it up from 270. And...
That's nice!
That's it!
If that's what you want, that's what you've got.
10 minutes, everybody. We'll pick it up from bar 307.
Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen.
Stop.
Excuse me, gentlemen.
I'm going to give her an injection.
You must hold her arm very still, do you understand?
I understand.
No, no, please, don't put us on hold.
This is the Soviet Consulate.
Hello?
Yes, it is definitely an emergency.
I'm sorry, sir, but there's a man to see you. It's important.
Excuse me, everybody. I'll be right back.
- Yes? - Mr. Erskine,
my name's Hank Brudenell.
I'm with the State Department.
Could I speak to you for a moment?
I apologize for interrupting your rehearsal,
but we seem to have run into something rather delicate.
One of your finalists, a young Russian girl...
- Tatjana Baronova. Yes? - Yes.
Well, what exactly are you saying?
That the postponement is indefinite?
No, we've agreed to hold for a week.
At that point, we'd have to re-examine...
My God! You've already agreed?
Hey, now, now. Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Exactly what is the nature of the little girl's illness?
Well, there isn't much information at this point.
But it's some kind of nervous affliction...
It couldn't be much worse than ours!
Now, you key yourself up to give one concerto on a given evening,
with some small significance as to the outcome...
Now, Mr. Dietrich, I am familiar
with the difficulties.
I was a pianist myself.
By way of compensation, we will, of course,
be picking up your expenses from now until the end of the finals.
Hey, I don't know what we're staring at each other for.
It's done. Let's make the best of it.
And the extra time to get ready, there is that.
Time does not mean the same thing to me as it does to you.
And if you're not ready now, you have no business being here.
Well, enjoy the day,
those who have the capacity to do so.
Send up a flare when you win.
All of this, and you don't even get a chance to see the finals.
Well, we're obviously not bringing you any luck.
- Didn't I have a wife? - I'll get her.
It's time, my lady.
What are you going to do?
What can I do? I'll pray the kid gets better in a hurry, I guess.
About the job, Paul.
I'll try and stall them, I suppose.
It's getting to be quite a gamble, isn't it?
Winning a competition that may never take place.
Or withdrawing right now, getting yourself home,
nailing down a job for this year.
There are other years
that will all belong to somebody else.
I am five months away from the cutoff age.
This is the last year that could belong to me.
That makes two of you.
I have asked you repeatedly to tell me
if anything was the matter.
And I have repeatedly said no.
- Just the way you hoped I would. - Okay.
Go on.
He wasn't supposed to make this trip.
And he is not supposed to go back to work.
Do you want it any simpler than that?
What do you mean, exactly?
He is going to die if he doesn't stop soon.
And when I say soon...
It's a courtesy limousine. How about some goddamn courtesy?
Kiss your mother goodbye, will you?
Darling, let's go. We're late.
Tenuto, all those b's should be...
Now use the una corda on those descending thirds and hold it.
Now, more. More crescendo...
This is the first major climax in this variation.
Rubato, let it breathe.
- I know. - I know you know.
I know you know, I know.
All right, put it aside.
Work on the Mozart for a half an hour and then we'll get some sleep.
Why do we keep working on the Prokofiev?
Just in case. Now there's time to change your mind.
The orchestra's up on it, too.
They played it with Ashkenazy two weeks ago.
And you should always have more than one concerto ready.
A question any manager will ask you at the start of your career,
"What can you play on 24 hours notice"
"if Serkin or Gilels cancels?"
The Serkin-Gilels 24 Hour Cancellation Blues.
Are you getting your period?
No, I decided to wait till the spring collections came out.
- Greta? - What?
Why are you always in such command?
Mainly because...
Is Joan... Is Heidi at home?
Don't take the chain off!
Yes?
Can we talk?
I haven't seen any evidence of it so far.
I was very rude.
Try again.
I'm sorry.
If you make it easier for me this time,
I'll make it easier for you the next time.
Greta Vandemann, Paul Dietrich.
- It's an honor. - He's a finalist, too.
You think we could go some place and have some coffee or a drink?
Anything you'd like.
Anything I'd like?
Why?
I don't think I'm ready to answer that just yet.
Okay, on one condition.
- You come by car? - Yes.
I want a driving lesson.
I'm sick of not knowing how to drive.
I've never had time to learn.
We're postponed at least a week.
I want a driving lesson.
It's been raining.
People don't drive in the rain?
Okay. Sure. You got it.
I have a spare key.
I'll be okay.
You can tell he's a careful driver just by looking at him.
Oh, shit.
It feels so strange.
You ride? No doubt you ride.
I've ridden.
And the instructor told you to think of the horse as your legs.
Well, think of the car as your horse.
My instep is beginning to seize up.
It's perfectly normal tension. Just relax.
You're doing fine.
Should I try a turn?
Sure. Why not?
Oh, my God! What do I do?
You do... Just keep a light...
Keep a light touch on the thing. Light touch.
That's it, that's it, that's it. You're doing fine.
You see? Keep it steady. Just relax. You're doing all right.
It's gonna level off at the bottom.
It looks a lot worse than it is.
Steady on the brake.
Now make a right turn.
Okay?
- Can you feel the way I'm shaking? - That's perfectly natural.
Jeez!
What?
How can you be so gentle and soothing
when you're doing this and such a down, cold bastard
when you're rehearsing a concerto?
It's the same guy.
That's pompous.
What do you mean, "No doubt you ride?"
Well, you have that aspect.
You have a rich girl's neck.
And don't ask me to explain that, I know what I mean.
- Are you okay? - Oh, yeah.
Except now I feel like you're staring at my neck.
Okay, that's enough for one lesson.
All right, hold it, hold it, hold it. Brake it, brake it.
Just brake it, brake it. Brake it. Stop it.
There we go. Now, put it in park.
Pull up the brake.
Well, you want to go some place and talk?
Well, actually, I don't want to talk.
I just wanted to be with somebody.
"Somebody."
I heard some very bad news tonight.
And the first person...
The only person I thought of... was you.
I wanted to be with you.
I know it's kind of an imposition.
Will you shut up before you spoil it?
Let's walk.
Thank you.
I wonder what time it is.
You wanna go home?
No, I was just wondering.
Let's leave.
Let's dance.
No, I don't... I don't know how to do that.
Oh, come on. They say that anybody can do it.
How did we get into this century?
What?
What have we been doing with our lives?
Isn't that where you're staying?
Is it nice?
I want to be here with you.
I want to be as close as we can get.
But I don't think we should make love. Does that infuriate you?
It comes as a great relief.
Oh, my God. What?
It's okay,
I'm getting you all wet.
Teardrops on my boobs. Great country western standard.
Do you feel like talking yet?
I don't know.
Less of a difference between the reward and the punishment.
I stood there and I looked at Gary.
Nineteen years knocking at the same door,
and he ends up explaining octaves to a bunch of kids
who don't really want to be there.
I started on the cello.
I had a real feeling for it, too.
My brother was supposed to be the pianist.
What went wrong?
It tickled.
What?
I said, it tickled.
Not my legs, either. My nose.
And he apologized to the audience.
And he said,
"Music is a hard enough trip without any distractions."
And I thought, "Hard enough trip?"
I was 22 years old, I didn't know what the hell he was talking about.
You have no business feeling guilty. Okay, true.
There's absolutely no fallback position for a pianist.
Nothing that's fulfilling.
So go for it.
You're not stealing their money, you're letting them love you.
What are parents for if not that?
What are you thinking?
Hello?
This music takes a bit of getting used to.
But it's sensual, don't you think?
More modal than serial.
I'm beginning to hear it.
Just relax.
You haven't been answering your telephone, so I...
What's on your mind?
Tatjana is not making a great deal of progress.
Well, that would seem to be that, then, wouldn't it?
One week from today,
I must begin rehearsals in Salzburg for Magic Flute.
Bensies arrives here Monday to guest conduct my orchestra
and five concerts.
Now, surely it's obvious, even to the Russians,
that we must begin the finals this coming Friday.
Yes, they understand that.
We've had a small breakthrough.
You know where the old lady is, don't you?
It was no major effort to find out.
Well, it's kind of sad.
She didn't wanna leave the kid that way,
but it was her only chance,
and she'd been planning it with her relatives for a long time.
She feels very bad about it.
And so?
She's willing not to seek asylum officially
or make any public statement whatsoever.
If what?
Well, if someone she trusts
can arrange a meeting for her with the little girl.
So she can explain.
This may not work. Do they know that?
They'll take what they can get.
The main thing is there's no Bolshaya scandal.
Do you feel like Scattergood Baines?
Sure. Why not? A little effort.
And we didn't blow anybody's life to hell and gone.
You know, there's a variation on this section.
- What? - Sure.
See? You don't know everything.
It happens to be one of the most famous
four-hand passages in 18th century music.
Pick it up right here.
Take it.
Hi. Can you stand it?
Do I have any choice?
Where you have been?
Snooping around at Symphony Hall.
Well, I'm not denying you two look... very sweet
and old-fashioned together.
You're right. As much as I hate
to leave this gorgeous instrument...
Well, thank you very much.
Or this one, I'd better get down there.
- Couldn't we just... - I don't think you can rehearse
two separate concerti at once, Heidi-ho.
Have you heard anything more about the finals?
No. They start tomorrow night.
With or without the Russian kid?
With or without.
Twenty-seven hours from now.
There's a press reception scheduled at the Hilton
at 8:30 tonight.
The Symphony Association is trying to atone.
So get your story straight.
Everybody knows my story.
Then change it.
Will you pick me up?
Yeah.
- You okay? - Don't I look it?
Don't fence with me. I get enough of that from Greta.
Look, it was a turkey job.
It doesn't mean a thing. And you mustn't let it...
Mustn't let it eat into my concentration.
Exactly. God, you're so smart.
Plan to miss me?
Well, that would likewise eat into my concentration.
Don't look at me that way.
I do plan to miss you.
I just can't do that until I go.
Well, believe it or not, we got through the Mozart.
Heidi-ho.
Do you know what a step it is
for him to even make a dumb joke like that?
My little wonder worker.
Why were you playing
what you were playing when I came in?
To cheer him up.
Have you ever heard of competitive edge?
In which one looks for ways to dislike one's opponents?
This is not an ashram, sweety-face.
This is a battleground.
It's always the messy ones, the irregular weaves.
If you have an itch, God knows I understand that.
What's wrong with that punk from the Bronx?
He's got a super body
and I'll bet some notion of how to use it.
Jerry? He'd be okay. Why?
Because all you can tolerate right now is an implement.
A human vibrator.
That doesn't count as infidelity.
I'm lost.
Infidelity to that!
That is your first husband.
That... you marry it, the way a nun marries Jesus.
You cleave to it,
because it gives your life a center that no man...
That very few men can possibly give you,
least of all a rival for the thing your life is centered on.
Do you know? Do you have any idea
what a drain that can be?
It's no drain at all, damn it, Greta.
You're wrong for once.
If anything, he doesn't take enough from me.
He's feeling a lot of pressure...
No, I do not want to hear about his problems!
I don't want to know what they are, and neither do you!
If we're pretty, and aren't we both?
And if we're accomplished, and are you not, and wasn't I?
There will always come along a man
who is what Eleanor Roosevelt used to refer to
as "less fortunate than ourselves."
No.
Everybody's got a story.
We are not going to hear mine.
Gary? It's Paul.
No, I'm still out here. There's been a hitch.
The finals have been put off for a few days,
that's why I'm calling.
I'd like you to do me a favor.
No, I'd like you to tell them
that I'm withdrawing my job application.
Because I don't think I can play full-out
if I hedge my bet, you know?
It just struck me,
if you have something to fall back on
you're gonna have a tendency to do just that, fall back.
You wanna know the truth?
I feel like I just lost 100 pounds.
Yeah.
Well, well, well, the circle is complete.
Not quite.
Yeah, I guess our little comrade is exed out.
I wonder what the matter is.
Well, there are rumors, you know.
Such as?
To hell with it.
Now listen up, everybody.
Undoubtedly, the organization is going to throw
some sort of festive celebration
after all this is over, all right?
And undoubtedly, it's gonna be quite boring.
So, you're all invited up to my apartment for another party
in honor of the winner, whomever he or she may be.
Over here, please.
This way.
Should I get a head shot over this way?
Let's get some air.
Well, so much for the Hillman.
I'm glad there was nothing riding on it.
Well, at least you're talking. I was beginning to...
Paul, would you please slow down?
You're gonna leave it here?
That's highly perceptive of you.
Listen, I am serious. What is wrong?
I mean, did I say something?
God knows if I did, you've made up for it.
Heidi, do you know what's happened?
It's over.
Back up the truck.
If there was ever a fair shake at this competition,
it's has been blown away now.
We have been manipulated into some supporting cast
for this neurotic little kid.
She's under a terrible strain.
How terrible can it be
if she's performing tomorrow night?
You don't feel anything for her?
I feel something for her, all right.
That's competitive edge, isn't it?
You make it sound just like the clap, you know that?
I mean, what is this whole thing to you, anyway?
Some kind of experience? Notes for a journal?
I mean it. What is the point of competition?
Unless you are somewhat interested in the outcome.
I'm interested, but to make yourself
hate some poor, sweet kid...
Some poor sweet kid is standing on my neck!
And shut up!
- Oh, super. - Goddamn clowns!
Paul, for God's sake, open your hands.
Your hands! Are you crazy?
Oh, shit!
- Paul! - I'm angry.
- You've seen it before. - Exactly!
Angry enough to get me raped!
Remember? You had a girl with you
when you got out of the car.
You're talking yourself into this.
Nothing can mean that much.
Right now? Nothing else means anything.
And if you don't feel the same way,
why are you taking up space?
Am I standing on your neck, too?
What I really think...
Is that you are ashamed to admit how much this means to you.
And what I really think is that you're lying to yourself,
but that is something for a shrink
to be concerned about.
I just don't have the time.
No, you haven't.
Okay.
In the long run,
what does this damned,
misbegotten competition have to do with you and me?
What do you mean, "you and me"?
What has you and me have to do with anything?
I seemed to have walked off my appetite.
I'm out of your way, I'll catch a cab.
Taxi!
Fine.
Excuse me.
Hot stuff.
Here we go.
You actually let me buy you a drink.
He was something, wasn't he?
You mustn't let that worry you.
Hey, it doesn't worry me. I don't expect to win.
I was shocked out of my gourd to make the finals.
Lookit, I know I'm not fooling anybody.
I can play one stinking concerto at this point.
And if you want to know the truth,
if I did win tomorrow night I'd be in a hell of a mess.
You can't exactly build a career on the Saint-Saens concerto.
Not even Saint-Saens could do that.
Then why are you here?
Because from here,
I can maybe get where I wanna go.
All right, you might not think so, but I'm good-looking.
And this is our time.
De Niro. Pacino. Travolta.
- DiSalvo. - Yeah.
But DiSalvo can play the piano.
Do you know who outdraws Frank Sinatra
every time he plays Las Vegas?
I'll tell you who outdraws Frank Sinatra
every time he plays Las Vegas.
Liberace. Well, shit, I play better than him.
So, what are you laughing at?
I shouldn't laugh?
Yeah, go ahead.
The hell with me. What are you doing later on?
What am I with you, a matter of pride?
Hey, it's nothing like that. You're just, you know, juicy.
What can I tell you?
I'm not as juicy as I look these days.
- You'd be very disappointed. - Listen, I...
If I thought it would do either of us any good,
I'd take you up on it, trust me.
I do.
Well, here we go again, back in the USSR.
You want to pull out, don't you?
Greta, if I didn't have to face you, I would.
Oh, no. I will not be responsible either way.
You get not a curse or a blessing from me.
I am the teacher.
It means so damn much to him.
What does it mean to me?
Don't ask the teacher.
Oh, yes, there will be next year.
And next year there will be... another one
who's older, desperate,
more deserving.
Always.
Until it's your turn to be those things.
And then a 23-year-old man will step aside for you, won't he?
Of course he will.
Because life is always so equitable.
I'm just not in the right mental state to play.
Something's missing.
And it was not stepping aside.
I don't have a chance, you heard him play.
Don't ask the teacher.
And don't lie to her, either.
Good morning.
So it is. She's not here.
Do you expect her back?
She was gone before I woke up.
You did yourself proud.
Thank you very much.
I don't mean last night, sonny.
Oh, yes, you were splendid.
I don't know where Lowengarth keeps finding them.
Hold it. You don't mean last night?
I mean you did a masterful job
of eliminating the only serious competition you have.
Don't worry, she'll play like a lox tonight
if that's what you came to check on.
If she told you anything about me at all,
you couldn't believe that. I don't operate that way.
She may not believe it, I don't have any trouble.
It must be a terrific responsibility,
knowing everything.
And it always ends the same way.
He feels misunderstood.
Why the hell aren't you practicing?
Answer me.
Answer you? I don't even know you.
Then what the hell do you think you're doing?
Making some grand gesture?
I'm not scared of you and I'm not worried about you.
So don't do me any favors.
- Is that clear? - It's clear.
I won't do you any favors.
Okay!
Oh, Christ! I did not come here to tell her that.
You know, you bring out the worst in me.
I came here to tell you that I am a liar.
I realized it this morning when I woke up and you weren't there.
I am a liar about "You and me," and what all that means.
- Wait a minute... - No, no, no, no, no.
I don't want to wait about anything.
That's all I've been doing is that, waiting.
I've been waiting to win, as if that's gonna change my life.
And that was fine until I ran into you.
And kept running in you.
And then... things began to happen.
Like that morning on the steps when you yelled at me.
I mean, let's face it,
nobody looks that good in direct sunlight.
So it's not like you're such a knockout.
But you stood there reading me off,
and I could see the blotches on your skin
and the discoloration under your eyes
- and tiny hairs on your arm. - Hey!
And none of it mattered, because I wanted you so much
I couldn't make a fist.
I wanted to climb inside you
and pull you around me like a blanket.
And now I know that that is more important
than this damn, misbegotten competition. Let me finish!
Okay.
So, what I really feel about you and me
is that we are a corporation.
Now, if you win, great.
If I win, better.
And if neither of us wins, then the hell with it,
but the corporation goes on.
And I wish to hell that I could have answered
you like this the night before,
but I just wasn't seeing straight.
So I lied.
I'll never lie to you again.
And if you think that that was easy...
What are you waiting for, a yes or no answer?
Now what?
Now I drive you back, so you can practice.
Wait a second.
We have to have a plan. I mean, if one of us wins
there'll be a week and a half
before the Carnegie Hall recital, right?
What if we were to take part of that time
and just disappear
and get to know each other?
I mean, we can go anywhere.
I have some friends on the Cape. We can stay there.
If they're there, we'll throw 'em them out.
Or stay some place real tacky. Las Vegas.
We'll ask Jerry what the tackiest place is to stay.
It doesn't matter...
What's important is we should do it, shouldn't we?
To hell with everything else?
You're right. We'll do it.
I love you.
So you said.
I love you, too.
It's a standoff.
Come on.
Where are you going to be?
Where do you want me?
Where I want you right now, they don't give medals for.
She's been to the john?
Yes, sir.
Well, up we go.
I love you.
I'll get a technician.
It won't take very long. Now don't fall apart on me.
I don't want a technician. I want another piano.
The whole middle register on this one is uneven
and you know it.
I need some time to think.
I'll be back.
Now, calm down. This sort of thing happens.
This one didn't have to. Now, cut the crap
and get her another piano.
The one I used.
I don't want your piano. I want the other Steinway.
It doesn't have as light an action.
I don't need as light an action.
I'm out of the mood to play the Mozart tonight.
I'm going to play the Prokofiev Third.
That is the silliest proposal I ever heard!
Why?
Oh, Greta, darling, how are you?
I'm peachy. Why? Why is it silly?
Look, I am not running a course
in music appreciation for beginners, am I?
The Prokofiev requires
almost a totally different orchestral set!
Different instruments!
I know what it requires.
More brass, more strings and more percussion.
Including castanets.
You have everybody you need downstairs smoking,
waiting to play the Saint-Saens.
The scores are locked up in the library.
You should be up on it. You played it with Ashkenazy
two weeks ago.
Well, maybe I am not in the mood
to conduct the Prokofiev Third!
Andrew!
It costs extra to carve "schmuck" on a tombstone,
but you would definitely be worth the expense!
The Prokofiev.
Yeah, Jerry!
All right, Jerry!
You've all waited long enough,
so I'm going to dispense with the speech.
You know, each of you,
how promising and talented you are.
Third prize,
a bronze medal and a check for $2,500 to...
Michael Humphries.
Second prize,
a silver medal and a check for $5,000
to...
Paul Dietrich.
Ladies and gentlemen,
the first prize of this year's
Arabella Gretsch Hillman Memorial Competition.
Consisting of a check for $20,000
and two years of concertizing in 50 centers of culture
throughout the United States and Canada is awarded to...
Heidi Joan Schoonover.
Bravo!
Thank you very much.
May we have a picture, please?
Boy, I couldn't stand
not being alone with you just now!
God, I'm glad it's over.
I hadn't realized how tense I was.
Also, they're crazy.
You played rings around all of us,
but what else is new?
At least the fix wasn't in.
The corporation took the gold and silver.
Michael got the bronze.
Boy, I bet the Russians wish the cello
didn't tickle my nose.
So, we should go to Michael's and get wiped-out drunk.
But first, let's make the plans. Let's make them.
I mean, I know I said Vegas and the Cape,
but I don't know if either of those places
appeals to you.
Truly, I don't know what appeals to you
and I'm dying to find out.
The main thing is we should blow the 20 grand
while we got the time and youth,
and not do anything super...
Oh, my God, I said they were crazy.
They're not crazy. You played brilliantly.
You're going to be a world-class pianist.
Well, so are you! The corporation, yes?
One of the things
that makes a world-class pianist in this world
is a launching like yours.
And yours. You got the silver medal.
I'm being stupid.
There's no way you can't be disappointed,
and here I am expecting you to be nothing
but happy for me, and that's idiotic.
I'm happy for you, Heidi.
I don't like the way you say my name all of a sudden.
Paul, please, let's just get past all this
and back to the corporation.
I mean, it was only this morning, don't you remember?
Or was it only because you were expecting to win?
You said you'd never lie to me again.
I'm not lying to you, Heidi.
Paul, please.
Please, what?
Be with me.
How?
Suppose the positions were reversed.
Would you or would you not say to me,
"Heidi, the money is there,
"and if you travel with me, there are contacts to be made
"and agents who will hear you play,
"and a future for both of us"?
- Would you or would you not? - I might.
Paul, what's the bloody difference?
Paul, you knew that I could play.
No, I didn't.
Not like that.
It never crossed my mind that you could be...
better than me.
Okay, I still say they were crazy,
but if what I did
seemed better than what you did,
it was only because I had you with me out there.
Last night when you played, you were alone.
Isn't that even more of a reason?
It's just that I don't know that I could handle the idea.
It could poison everything.
It would seep into my playing,
and bed,
and everywhere else.
You haven't a clue what you're about, have you?
Paul, I am in need of a strong man,
now more than ever.
Which is exactly what I'm trying to be.
Trying to be?
God, for nearly a week I threw myself at you like a groupie.
I gave you every chance to chalk me up like one.
You felt something.
Okay, so you fought it,
but when you let it take you over,
you brought everything you had in the open.
When we went to bed for the first time, you cried!
Do you know what a compliment that is? It's all...
Paul, you're the strongest man I've ever known,
and you're strong enough for this.
This is silly. This is your night.
- It's our night! - No! There are some things
that aren't meant to be shared!
And this is one of them. Don't cheat yourself of that!
Now, you get yourself together.
You get over to Michael's and you revel in it!
And you?
I'll be there. I just have to call my parents.
You won't be there, you bastard.
You're gonna run out on me.
Oh, Paul.
It would have been a hell lot of easier
if the cello hadn't tickled your nose.
Paul.
I have to call them before they go to sleep.
Does this remind you of the USO on a slow night?
I got a dance floor,
nobody's dancing.
Every good party needs time to warm up,
and the right ingredients.
Speaking of which, where is our guest of honor?
Have you see her?
No doubt, she is celebrating elsewhere.
Well, you will stay after the others have departed?
How sweet. I'm engaged, honey child.
Don't call me honey child.
There she is.
Where have you been?
Ladies and gentlemen, number one.
Come on, drink.
Yeah.
It was fair.
It was as fair as these things ever are.
I'm leaving right now. Kiss him for me. Bye.
It's aleatoric rather than modal.
But I'll play it for you tonight.
Would you care to dance?
Now listen here, little one,
it took nature about a million years
to develop Grant's gazelle.
You've got about a century to wait
before evolution produces the man you have in mind.
So, in the meantime, get out there
and dance with what there is!
♪ Take me Along
♪ I don't care where you have gone
♪ And I don't have to know
♪ Exactly where you're going
♪ If you leave me behind
♪ Then everything on your mind
♪ Will turn to pictures of the world
♪ We might have been
♪ People alone may go very fast
♪ But maybe not so far
♪ Playing along is still solitaire
♪ Remember
♪ People alone may reach for a love
♪ But only half as well
♪ People alone may seem satisfied
♪ How can they tell?
♪ If we are crossing the line
♪ Where there's no yours and no mine
♪ We'll find it easy to see
♪ People should be together
♪ People alone can go very fast
♪ But maybe not so far
♪ Playing along is still solitaire
♪ Remember
♪ People alone can reach for a love
♪ But only half as well
♪ People alone may seem satisfied
♪ How can they tell?
♪ Take me along
♪ Let's not be people alone
♪ I'm on your mind
♪ So, please don't leave me behind
♪ Crossing the line
♪ Where there's no yours and no mine
♪ Please take me along
♪ Let's not be people alone
♪ I'm on your mind
♪ Please don't leave me behind ♪