Do you have to play that? You ought to know better.
Run out. Run away.
Run off somewhere where they don't know you.
Bury your violin in the deepest hole. Still won't do you any good.
You think you hate music now. You don't, you couldn't.
Music is a compulsion, an obsession. You'll blow up if you don't play it.
What did you think a concert career would be?
Something you put together with toothpicks?
Little ink spots and finger exercises?
Drop a nickel in the slot and out pops a concert?
Look at them. Look at your beauties.
How many minutes, days, months, years of your life are bedded in the waxed wood?
There's your biography.
Paul Boray, virtuoso, artist.
Why don't you leave him alone, Bauer.
All my life I wanted to do the right thing.
But it never worked out.
I'm outside always looking in.
Feeling all the time I'm far away from home.
And where home is, I don't know.
I....
I can't get back to the simple, happy kid I used to be.
The kid I used to be.
Take that whistle out of your mouth.
You can't deliver groceries and blow a kazoo.
- Hi, Pop. - Paul, off with coat, up with the tapioca.
Nope. Leave your coat on. Wash your face. You're going out with Papa.
- Paul is going out with Papa? - You're gonna buy him a birthday present.
Why, Esther, Saturday's my busiest day.
Besides, you cooked him a cake. When I was a boy--
What was a birthday without a present?
All right. I'll build him a nice house with a ketchup carton.
Take him to Jeffers. Let him choose.
- He's too old to play house. - He's too young to know what he wants.
No matter. If he wants it, it's a good present.
Well, here we are, Paul. Lots of nice things, aren't there?
- Hello, Mr. Jeffers. - Hello, Boray.
- For the boy? - Who else?
Look around, Paul. Pick something, anything up to a dollar and a half.
Well? The sheep.
But the small one's better. Look.
It's almost human. Wouldn't you like that?
No, that's for kids.
Maybe there's something for big boys. Let's see. Oh, here's something.
A windmill.
- Don't you like that? - No.
- He doesn't like it. - Your boy like baseball?
Well, who doesn't like baseball in America, Mr. Jeffers? It's an institution.
Bang, bang, Babe Ruth.
- Who else plays it? - Ty Cobb, Hans Wagner.
Bang, bang, Hans Wagner.
Bang, bang, Ty Cobb.
Wouldn't you like to be a Ty Cobb, Paul?
No.
He doesn't want that.
- Hello, Paul. - Hi.
- Wanna take some piano lessons? - No.
I'll give you a special rate, 25 cents.
You pay, you'll be my only pupil.
No, violin's prettier than the piano.
Don't judge all pianos by the way I look. Try it on for size.
- Could I? - Sure.
If you play the violin, you'll have to carry a pianist around with you.
Play something.
I know that. Just give me a minute.
Paul. Paul!
Paul!
Another Paderewski in the family. Phil with his kazoo and you with a violin.
- You said I could have anything. - A drum, a little horse.
A toy is all right. What does a boy want with a violin?
For wood and glue? Take the fire engine.
Let him take the fiddle. He could do worse.
For instance, he might grow up to be a piano player.
You ought to know, Sidney.
Pianist and composer. Rates on request.
The unknown genius waiting to be discovered. Do I strike your fancy?
- Not too much. - Unfortunately, I'm not my own type either.
Listen, Sidney, as a musician...
...how much do you make per week or per year?
- Money? Cash money? - Yes.
I'll write a song entitled, "If I had a Million, Would I Talk to You?"
I'm a bargain-basement genius.
You want my son to be genius number two.
What a future. Paul, take the baseball bat.
- I want the violin. - He wants the violin.
Statistics show a million boys are crying for baseball bats.
It isn't good enough. He has to have a violin.
Paul...
- ...take the fire engine. - No.
The windmill.
- The baseball bat. - No.
Then take nothing. Here. Come on home.
Don't take it too hard.
You could imagine how much trouble I had getting a piano.
Mr. Boray, you forgot your hat.
I'm sorry, Mr. Jeffers.
- What happened? - Your son.
Your ungrateful son. A toy isn't good enough for him.
Paul.
Didn't you see anything you want?
Didn't he see anything? He certainly did.
In a black box like a dead fish.
A violin no less.
- A violin? - He'll scratch on it for two weeks...
...then it's in the closet with Phil's saxophone. Remember his saxophone?
You hoped we had a musician in the family...
...because he followed the organ grinder.
But it was the monkey he wanted.
He asked for a violin himself and you didn't buy it for him?
- Is that why you're crying, Paul? - I'm not crying.
Well, you're not laughing either.
Go upstairs. Put on a new face.
Put on your birthday face.
What are you doing? I forbid it, Esther. It's throwing away money.
Waste and foolishness. What for, Esther? What for?
It means something when he asks for something himself.
Means he's got an idea he'll forget in a couple weeks.
Maybe, maybe not.
Maybe our Paul will be different than Phil.
Maybe our Paul will be different.
Every mother thinks she has a son who'll be different.
But it's foolish I tell you.
It's the one on the counter in the little black box. Ask Sid Jeffers, he'll tell you.
He's ready to blow out the candles.
- Hi, Gina. - Hello, Gina.
Hello.
- Happy birthday. - Did you bring me a present?
Make a wish, Paul. Make a wish.
- Happy birthday, Paul. - Gee, I blew out all the lights.
All right, Sister, turn on the lights.
Do you like it, darling? Do you like it?
Will you put that thing away?
Hey, we're gonna play ball.
Anybody wanna play ball with us?
- Hey, Phil, where's Paul? - He's practicing.
- Does he have to? - He don't have to.
You mean he wants to?
Mr. Boray.
- Me? - Mr. Boray, we don't expect you...
...to be with us all the time. But would you mind keeping in touch with us?
This overture is written for full orchestra not solo violin.
- Let's try it both ways. - Let's try it as the composer wrote it, Boray.
All right. I'm sorry.
All right. Once more from the double bar.
This time, Mr. Boray has promised to rejoin the orchestra.
It occurs to me, Mr. Boray, you are very fresh.
Well, that's exactly the quality that I like in your playing.
All right. From the double bar.
I'm right behind you, Gina.
Get it? See what I mean? Bach is church windows.
Beethoven is a giant range of mountains. Wagner is a storm.
- Debussy is the wind in the trees. - And you? What are you?
Me? I'm the dynamo that makes them tick.
I'm a self-starter. I'll knock this town on its ear once I get started.
Nobody sits on my head. It's full of talent.
Last week, I met José Iturbi. He told me, "Practice.
Learn what they want and play it."
Paul, we've passed my house.
Oh, I'm sorry. Remind me to let you get in a word every once in a while.
When I get wound up, I just go on and on until someone changes the needle.
- I know how you feel. - Do you?
Really?
It's funny, you know, I never open up like this to most people...
...not even Mom. It's only you. You know what I mean?
I don't have to pose with you. I don't have to fight or argue.
I can be what I am, no different. No better, no worse. Just me.
- You know? - I know.
Gee, I'm itching to get started.
A thousand concerts in my fingers waiting to get out.
Nothing can stop me. Nothing can get in my way. I don't feel alive until....
Hey.
If I told you I loved you...
- ...would you laugh? - No.
Well, I do.
You see, I'm not laughing.
Evening paper! Get your evening paper! Thank you, sir.
- Hey. - Evening paper!
- Read all about it! - Hi, Eddie, how did the Yanks do?
- They won both games. - Great. Thanks.
--$18.62. Thompson, $11.33.
Credit, credit, credit.
Nobody pays anymore.
I know they gotta eat, Esther, but we gotta eat too.
The Depression is a Depression for us and everybody.
What Depression? With two chickens in every pot?
It's no joke, Flossie. It's no joke at all.
Who said it was funny? I got a run in my stocking. Will you fix it?
It's the last decent pair I've got.
- Phil, is that you? - Yeah. They got new signs in the park now.
Instead of saying, "Please keep off the grass," they say, "Don't eat the grass."
- Any luck? - There's nothing, Mom.
Not one job between the Battery and the Palisades.
- It's like banging your head against a wall. - Did you eat?
No, I'm not hungry. What are you doing home? Get canned, did you?
- I could go and get your job. - You're welcome to it.
They got a new idea. I gotta go back to work tonight.
Open evenings for the rest of the summer, three times a week.
The customer's always right.
Does he have to play that violin all the time?
He's not bothering anybody.
I'll crawl in a hole till his nibs gets the urge to stop playing.
I'll retire from the human race.
Don't make any noise, Paul is practicing.
Don't go in the room, Paul is studying. Don't do this, don't do that.
It's coming out of my ears.
- He's working hard. - He's working hard?
Oh, I forgot. I'm the one who isn't working. I'm on a vacation.
I go strolling every morning to smell the flowers and look at the birds.
Sure, he's the busy bee in this hive.
Poor Paul, working his fingers to the bone to support a no-good brother.
Philip is right, Esther. We're one family.
- What's good for one is good for the other. - Don't blame him, Rudy.
What can he do? Help like everyone else. Is that too much to ask?
This practicing, these teachers. He'll never amount to anything.
- It's not for us. - But, Rudy--
Look at the Jeffers boy. He plays music too.
But at least he's on the radio. He gets paid.
- It's different with Paul. - Don't he eat?
Don't he wear clothes? What's different?
- What's wrong with getting a job? - There's nothing wrong.
- But if you can be a-- - Statistics show...
...there's one of those in a million.
Philip, put your shoe on, please.
Paul Boray.
The genius who lives over a grocery store?
- Now, Esther.... - Paul.
Happy days.
What's right is right. I was just....
My father keeps saying it's a waste of time.
He doesn't understand me or my ambitions.
Nobody sits on my head. I'm not gonna be a parasite.
From now on, I pay my way. I want a job.
At 3:00 in the morning? What kind of a job?
Playing violin. What else do I know?
That's just what this Depression needs, another violin player. Cigarette?
No thanks, I've got one.
Hire a costume and play gypsy variations in a Hungarian restaurant.
- Don't horse me around, Sid. - I'm not, Paul. I'm not.
You're such a schnook. You think decisions are made with flashlight bulbs.
Pop, and I'm a gypsy fiddler, or pop, I'm a virtuoso.
Leave that cord alone, you'll tear my shade.
You're no help. You're laughing.
- You're sensitive. - I didn't come here to be analyzed.
That's the trouble. You want advice. What makes you think I know?
I play piano in a monkey suit with a bunch of other guys dressed up in monkey suits.
Piano.
Schmaltz. Listen, Paul, I can be unhappy in any key.
Depressed is my favorite word.
You know why? Schmaltz. That what you want?
I know what I don't want. I don't wanna feel like a heel in my own house.
I don't wanna live over a grocery store...
...while feeding on gum and chocolate drops.
Hot in summer. Worrying about the bill that wasn't paid...
...or the bill that's coming in today. Not me, Sid. Not me.
And you want me to tell you what to do.
You want me to tell you you're right.
Well, maybe you are. I don't know.
You can't advise talent. Talent's a way of life.
Not something you can decide in a minute.
Who knows if you're gifted enough to be a concert violinist.
- That's the point. - Is it? What?
Maybe I'll end up teaching kids how to fiddle. There's no guarantee.
There's no guarantee for anything real.
Would you say, "I'll marry you if I have a guarantee"?
- You're a dead pigeon with guarantees. - Don't give me any lectures.
I know you like a book by now.
You're proud and sensitive. A little too intense and much too precocious.
Sincere but suffering from the old American itch.
You wanna get there fast, but you don't wanna pay for the ride.
All I'm asking you to do is to help me get a job.
- You think you can take it? - I can take it.
We're running overtime.
There will be a cut here, gentlemen.
Cut from letter D...
...to letter R. That'll be eight bars from the end. Is that agreeable, Mr. Jeffers?
Why bring personalities into the discussion? I'll do it.
- From letter D to letter R, gentlemen. - Why don't we just play two chords?
One to open and close. It'll sound just as good.
Even for me, and I don't acknowledge myself to be the best pianist.
- That's quite a cut, doctor. - Sid's right.
- I beg your pardon? - I agreed. You're cutting out the best part.
- Let me be the judge of that. - It's a matter of the composer's intention.
I apologize for making you unhappy, sir.
I take it you are displeased.
- Oh, I'll play it. - Oh, you don't have to.
You'll be happier if you're not forced to play in our company.
We will just have to struggle along without you.
Hey, wait a minute.
Give the kid a chance. He's never played on the radio.
Don't waste your breath, Sid.
Well?
- What'd you think? - Coffee?
Look, I asked you a simple question.
Sugar?
You want me to blow kisses and shout bravo?
- You sound promising. - Thanks, that's a crushing compliment.
From now on, you can sign your letters, "Paul Boray, fiddle player."
- I have spoken. - Cut the gags. What'd you really think?
Little too brash, a little over-brilliant. You need more restraint.
- You didn't like it? - It's not important if I like it.
- The idea is for other people to share it. - That's right. For once, we agree.
The point about an artist is the sound he makes, the personal sound.
It's his own sound like no one else, on a piano, a violin, on any instrument.
That's communicated between artist and audience.
That's what you call personality. If he's got that, nothing matters.
If he doesn't, he might as well quit.
- You might have it. - Then you think I'm terrific?
- You took the words out of your mouth. - Am I ready for concerts?
- Sure. - That's all I wanna know.
- Where you gonna play? - I'll talk to them down at the school.
Rozner likes me, he'll put in a good word.
Wait a minute. Take a look at this.
Here's a list of this week's concerts. There must be hundreds of them.
There's pianists, violinists, sopranists, tuba players.
All kinds of virtuosos. You know what you're up against?
- What's that got to do with me? - Want a debut?
You'll need a hall, tickets, a couple of posters, some ads, publicity.
Let's say $750 will do it.
Do you have $750 kicking around loose?
- I thought a manager takes care of that. - For you?
They never heard of you.
They'd put you on, sure. Only you pay.
What does he do, pat me on the back and pick my pocket?
Who goes to debuts? Relatives and enemies.
You need connections to get people to come.
A manager supplies the audience. If he's good...
...he'll get a couple of critics to hear you. That's important.
My playing. Doesn't that mean anything?
Sure, you fill the lull between intermissions.
What are you gonna play on? Can't play a concert on a cut-rate instrument.
You need a Strad or Guarnerius. Do you have a spare 25G's to buy one?
I studied ten years, practiced till my hands feel like wood. For what?
Don't give me any of that. You should've told me this years ago.
You weren't good enough ten years ago.
You still thought music was all moonlight.
You play the piano. What have you done?
It's what you don't become that hurts.
Idealism is a luxury for the very young.
You're full of lectures. You know all the answers.
- You give me a pang. - Don't get sore at me.
- I didn't make the world. - You're always giving out with advice.
You ought to mind your own business.
I didn't ask you to play for me. That was your idea.
- You wanted my opinion? You got it. - I asked for an opinion, not a sermon.
You have all the characteristics of a successful virtuoso.
You're self-indulgent and the hero of all your dreams.
You ought to dream yourself. It might make you less cynical.
When I look at you, I know what I wanna avoid.
One of us is offensive. Why don't you blow.
Tchaikovsky. Couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow.
What do you want it on, whole wheat or rye?
Okay, we're both crazy.
- Where do we go from here? - How about a party?
- Fine, send down for a couple beers. - I mean the real thing.
- Hear of the Wrights? - They invented the airplane.
Helen and Victor Wright? It's hard to avoid them.
Pictures on the society page. Very social.
They have a yen for La Vie Bohème. Good food, good liquor, open house.
- They invite me for laughs. - I don't feel in the mood for a party.
Don't be stupid, sweetheart. Everybody goes there.
Maestros and dipsos, corn-fed composers and calypsos.
It's the breeding ground for successful careers.
Dozens of them have been launched at the Wrights. Go put on your tie.
I'll crawl into my society pants.
Leave your hair mussed, you look pretty that way.
I'll skip this round, thanks.
- How are you this evening? - Fine, fine.
Quite a party. Does this go on here all the time...
- ...or are you new here too? - I'm an old hand at these parties.
- Who's that? - Who?
- Over there. - That's your hostess.
So that's Helen Wright? They say she drinks like a fish.
Rumor hath it so. Haven't you met her?
No.
She probably hasn't seen you yet.
- She's extremely near-sighted, you know. - Really?
- What's her husband like? - Weak.
Not a bad sort, just weak.
- Is he around? - Yes, he's here.
- Where? - Here.
Oh, Victor, Helen's been asking for you.
Oh, has she? Excuse me.
What do you do? You a fighter? You look just like a prizefighter.
- Monte, I bet he's a prizefighter. - I play violin.
I don't believe you. Go on, play a violin. I dare you.
I bet you don't know which end the music comes out of.
- The middle. It comes out of the middle. - Monte, make him play.
- Would you? - Sure, why not?
Just by accident, I happened to have brought my violin.
Wonderful playing, isn't it?
Every time I look at you, I get a fierce desire to be lonesome.
You can leave any time you like, you know.
You're too shy to tell me you detest me?
- Have we met? - Never saw you before.
- I've enjoyed every moment of it. - I've seen you somewhere.
- You ride the subways? - Not very often.
You probably don't recognize me with clothes on.
I pose for the underwear ads, the body, scrawny.
Well, as long as you can't resist me, sit down.
I still think you look like a prizefighter.
Sid, they want me to play.
- What are you gonna play? - Zigeunerweisen. Give me an A.
Hey! You just spoiled the beginning of an odious relationship.
Okay.
Who is that?
I don't know. It's someone new.
With that talent, he'll probably end up in jail.
Why?
I don't know. I've just got an idea that all talented people end up in jail.
I make a stupid remark and you laugh.
You're stupid, Teddy.
Like him?
I'm constitutionally given to enthusiasm about nothing.
Get my glasses for me like a good boy, Teddy.
The genius needs a drink, Teddy.
- Gin or Scotch? - No, thanks.
Two Scotches with a dash of heather.
You play like a calliope.
I beg your pardon?
There's an original answer for you. He begs my pardon.
You're not the man who got up and gave his seat to the lady on the subway?
Do you come from the provinces?
I was born in New York.
Oh, here's that rare animal. A New Yorker from New York.
New York is full of all kinds of animals.
Not all of them were born here.
Did you mean that as an insult?
I'm a very difficult person to insult, Mr....
- You do have a name, don't you? - Sure.
I'm in the telephone book under violins.
Mrs. Wright, this is my friend Paul Boray.
And I'm sure that any friend of mine is not welcome here.
Bad manners, Mr. Boray. The infallible sign of talent.
Shall I make a prediction?
Soon the world will divide itself into two camps.
Pro-Boray and anti-Boray.
Which camp are you in, Mrs. Wright? Pro or anti?
Why--? Why did Helen ride him like that?
She's merely getting interested.
- What else, Mrs. Cline? - How much are your apples?
- Five cents a piece. - I'll have one.
- What are you having, a party? - Philip.
Finish this order. Something else, Mrs. Cline?
- Do you have any butter? - Lots of it.
- How much a pound? - Forty-five cents.
At the corner, it's only 30 cents a pound.
- Why don't you get it there? - They're out of it.
- When we're out it's only 10 cents. - I'm gonna put him on the stage.
We just got some fine Wisconsin sauerkraut.
- Paul Boray? - Yes, he's my son.
- Sign here, pappy. - What else, Mrs. Cline?
- I'll have a box of soap flakes. - Soap flakes.
And a dozen of eggs.
Thanks, pappy.
Eggs.
A bottle of milk.
Paul!
- Paul! - Yeah.
- Come down. Package for you. - Coming.
All right.
- And a box of salt. - Okay. Need anything else?
I think that's all.
- Well, open it up. - What is it?
- Cigarette case. - For you?
Well, where did it come from? What for?
I played at a party last night.
You got it for playing the violin?
Partly.
They liked the way I play.
Who liked your playing?
What party?
People named Wright.
Wright, who are they?
Oh, the Wrights.
They know everybody. They can help me a lot, Mom.
- I hope you've forgiven me. - I don't hold grudges.
They're a waste of time. You shouldn't have sent this.
I spend my life doing penance for things I never should've done in the first place.
Don't you like martinis?
Not particularly.
They're an acquired taste, like Ravel.
I never had much time for acquired tastes, except for Ravel.
You make it all sound very grim.
What do you do for amusement?
Play the violin.
- Is that all you do, play the violin? - Almost.
- Go to concerts? - Not much.
When they're good, I'm jealous. When they're bad, I'm bored.
Hobbies, pleasures or fun?
It's there in the violin for me.
- Girls? - A few.
That's all?
That's all.
You're a very strange creature.
No stranger than you.
Me? There's nothing very strange about me.
I was married twice before. Once at 16, once at 21.
One was a crybaby, the other a caveman.
Between them, I said goodbye to girlhood.
You're still very young.
Take that glint out of your eye.
- Glint? - That gleam.
I don't know how men get that way. Every time you meet a woman...
...you begin to plan on how and where you can club her wings down.
I'm different, remember?
I'm the fella that's gonna split the world into two camps.
Besides, I thought I was your favorite unknown talent.
You are.
You're a very talented violinist.
I like to help talent when I can.
I'm interested in you as an artist.
And not as a person?
Only as an artist.
By the way, you don't have a manager, do you?
- No, no. - You should have one, you know.
Do you know Bauer? Frederick Bauer?
Well, I've never met him.
- Yes, Mr. Bauer? - Check open dates at Manhattan Hall...
...for a recital, violin. Mrs. Wright will pay for it.
Esther, people are watching. You must not do that.
He sounds better here than he does in the kitchen.
Ask Mr. Boray to join us.
Gee, I-- I don't know, I....
I never thought I'd be so nervous.
I feel as if I've been through a six-day bike race.
I'm all in.
If you don't sweat, it's not good. That's when you begin to worry.
You know, I thought I was better in the second half.
I kind of got warmed up a little.
Don't you think I was a little cold in the beginning? You know...
...the first few minutes I didn't have any control.
Forget it. It was only perceptible to the whole audience.
On the level, Paul, it was really first-rate.
- You left them in a quiet frenzy. - I don't know. I don't know.
I'd give anything to do the concert all over again.
No matter how many concerts, you'll always have the penalty of not satisfying yourself.
Preserve that feeling of dissatisfaction and you'll be okay.
Hey, wait a minute. This has to go on a headwaiter tomorrow night.
I'd like to go hide. I don't wanna see anyone.
I tell you, you're in. Ask me, an actual eyewitness.
I found the concert completely stultifying. What more do you want?
Let's talk about something else.
What about ancient Greece?
What's your opinion of Greek civilization?
Quit it, will you? Did you see the house out there?
Half empty. Some debut.
Rows of empty seats staring me in the face.
And then I fluffed that fast passage in the Brahms.
Don't worry. You won't hear from Brahms.
Cut the gags out, will you, Sid. Cut it out or get out!
I can't afford it.
You're the only friend I've got.
He has fire, this Boray.
Rather like what you find in a Van Gogh painting.
A touch of the savage. Good for art.
That's why I was never an artist, my dear.
I'll go backstage and get Paul.
- We'll see you at home, Gina. - All right.
- Let's go, Rudy. I wanna get things ready. - Esther.
Maybe we can take the picture for a souvenir.
- There'll be other pictures. - But it's a beautiful picture.
You wouldn't want to offend her. Helen would be disappointed if you didn't show.
- My family's having a party. Thanks. - Oh, come along.
- You should go. - For an hour. How about it?
Okay, just for an hour.
Another one, Paul. "The debut of a violinist...
...of uncommon power and integrity is the news this morning.
It is difficult to remember a first concert equal to it for vir--"
- Virtuosity. - "Virtuosity, musicianship...
...and the highest type of interpretation.
Paul Boray is a young violinist of great gifts."
You hear? He's talking about you.
- Bunk. - I'll take the bunk for an appetizer.
Don't believe everything you read in papers.
- You came home late last night. - Oh, yeah.
I'm sorry, Mom.
I couldn't get away. Honest.
That's all right. It was nothing. Just cake and wine.
Makes no difference.
Where were you?
At the Wrights. Mr. Bauer thought I ought to go.
- Those are nice flowers. - Gina brought them.
Oh, she did?
- Oh, I'll call her later. - Paul, this is important.
Daily Progressive, high-class newspaper.
"Boray is undoubtedly a gifted young man.
But his tone has an unfortunate tendency to go off pitch in moments of climax.
Time and experience will perhaps correct this fault."
Yellow journalism.
- I saw them at the concert. - What?
I said I saw Mr. and Mrs. Wright at the concert.
Oh, you did?
She's a very beautiful woman.
Listen to this:
"The concert was notable for the unfailing beauty of tone."
See, I told you. The other one was jealous.
Statistics show 80 percent of jealous critics...
...are broken-down, disappointed musicians anyway.
- Customers. I must show them the papers. - Here.
No, no. This one is prejudiced.
It's nice of the Wrights to show such an interest in you.
It's the fiddle, Mom. They like the way I play the violin.
I hate to take up your time like this, Mrs. Wright.
- I appreciate it. - Nonsense. It wasn't my idea.
Bauer thought of it. I have the reputation for good clothes, food and wine.
Bauer said something conservative.
Yeah, conservative and dark.
The curse of classics. They demand respectability. Not that. Take the serge.
- Mrs. Wright knows value. - You mean that?
Yes. A suit mustn't have bones like ribs in an umbrella.
It's the drape that does it.
I wouldn't know. I just have time to get dressed in the morning.
Mrs. Wright knows quality when she sees it.
I like the stripe better.
You can be a very obstinate man.
I began young. I once had a very bitter argument about a baseball bat or a violin.
And you got the violin.
I'm not with the New York Yankees.
Obviously.
- In the stripe. - In the stripe.
Thank you, Mr. Boray.
- Well, what do you think? - Good. Excellent in many ways.
Then you forgive me?
Forgiving you, Helen, is like an old and not unpleasant habit.
I knew you wouldn't come if I told you to listen to a recital.
I think symphony conductors develop selective ears.
They can be very deaf on occasion.
- Where did you study? - At the National Institute.
- With Rozner? - Yes, sir.
- Where can I reach you? - Through Bauer.
Bauer. You're in good hands.
Phone my secretary someday. I'd like to talk to you.
- I will. - Thanks again, Mr. Boray.
Goodbye, Mr. Jeffers.
If the orchestra's hard up for funds, I'd be glad to help.
Thanks again for coming. Give my love to Lisa.
I don't think he knew we were gonna play.
He didn't seem to mind. He left the first chance he got.
Mr. Hagerstrom, mind dropping me off downtown?
I have to report to my parole board every two weeks.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye, Helen.
Why are you angry?
Didn't Hagerstrom know I was coming here to play?
No, not quite.
You might've told me that.
- I took it for granted you'd want to play. - I wanted to. I respect him.
- But that's not the point. - What is the point?
The way you did it. Without him knowing.
Look, it was for your sake I asked him up here. I don't play the violin.
The patroness of the arts. What am I?
A substitute for this year's trip to Sun Valley?
Think it's pleasant to be patronized by a woman?
Doesn't it occur to you to be grateful?
Sure. I'm grateful for the debut, for Bauer.
I'm grateful for the chance to play for Hagerstrom. That's the list so far.
- I'm in your debt. - I don't recall having mentioned it.
Didn't do this for me. Did it for yourself.
The way you buy a racehorse or a yacht or collect paintings.
You just added a violin player to your possessions, that's all.
You're a mass of prejudices, aren't you?
So much thought and so little feeling. You....
I'm in no mood to argue the point. I'll settle for a drink.
- Why do you drink so much? - Ask me no questions and....
As me no questions, I'll tell you no lies. Remember that?
Sure.
I also remember, "Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts."
Hello, darling.
- Paul. - Victor, you're just in time.
- Paul was scolding me for my manners. - Was he?
It seems I don't know the etiquette of gratitude. Bourbon for you?
- Won't you have something? - No.
They say people who drink a lot are frustrated.
Or thirsty.
Or unhappy.
- Did you like Hagerstrom? - Your wife was kind to introduce me.
You should've heard him. He has original ideas.
He's been expanding on my general uselessness. Soda?
- Please. - He thinks I live a wasted life.
Oh, Sinbad and the mermaid. What news of the guppies?
- Meet interesting salmon? - You don't know what you're missing.
- The water was wonderful. - The water knows where to find me.
I believe in progress and American plumbing. When I need water...
...I take a shower.
- Wanna play catch? - No.
Would you?
- No. - You ungrateful people.
You invite me to the beach, drive me out in style to the cool breezes.
Take me out of the nice, hot, steaming city, and this is the thanks I get.
And what's more, I'm hungry. This violent inertia gives me an appetite.
- You haven't been out of that chair. - Every man has his own form of exercise.
This is your party. You know your way around here.
Where's the food, or do we munch seaweed to keep in the spirit?
- Sandwiches are inside if you want them. - You mean, I have to walk inside?
Wonderful sea air.
Do you ever get confused with all these spare mansions you have kicking around?
Beach house, town house, country house.
Personally, I get confused in a hotel room with an adjoining towel.
You get the feeling that I'm not wanted here?
Why'd you run away?
I don't like to be mauled.
I was only trying to help you.
I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
- I have a certain amount of pride too. - Who says you haven't?
What are you afraid of, Helen?
I'm just careful.
- Of what? - Of the world in general.
- That's pretty vague. - It's a woman's privilege to be vague.
You want people to think you're brittle and shallow.
The woman with a gay gag, a wisecrack.
You're not really that, you know.
My friends will be delighted to hear it.
You're lonely.
You think you can fool me. We're too alike. I know you too well.
You don't know me at all.
Why did you ask me out here today?
I was coming out anyway, and I thought you might enjoy it.
That's not true.
I don't like insolence, even from guests.
Tell me, Mrs. Wright, does your husband interfere with your marriage?
Why don't you play something?
I don't like to play the piano. It makes me too attractive.
- Sandwich? - No thanks. I'm on a liquid diet.
Drink?
No, I gotta get back for broadcast.
Clear head, nimble fingers.
- Just one? - Broadcast.
I play background music for a drama called Life's a Dream.
The girl's going blind. Her boyfriend just discovered there's insanity in his family.
Mama's a widow with a mortgage years overdue.
The brother's wanted by the cops.
Otherwise, their life is one laugh after another.
I'm a man of fragments. Little here, little there. Beach, broadcast.
Nothing complete in my life...
...if I had a life.
Now, where were we?
I'm tired of talk. I don't like brainy people. They're usually very dull.
I prefer a touch of the brainless. They're a happier breed.
You're making a big mistake.
You're brainless, you mean?
I can do anything a brainless man can do, and I can do it better.
That sounds almost like a challenge.
- I'm all right. Leave me alone. - But your shirt's torn.
Don't touch me.
I said, I'm all right.
Leave me alone, Paul.
What are you thinking?
Nothing.
Don't nibble on the grass. It stains your teeth.
You might be sorry love was ever invented, Paul.
I'm not a simple person. I have my faults.
Who hasn't? I have a quota of them tucked in my back pocket.
I don't keep mine hidden though. I wear them like medals.
I'll take my chances.
Ever since I can remember, I've been a law to myself.
People were stupid enough to put up with it.
You never did.
- And you liked that? - No, I hated it.
I was afraid of it. I still am.
Why?
It takes a great deal of courage to look at ourselves as we really are.
I never wanted to.
So I drink.
That's the truth, pure and simple.
The truth is never simple.
I know that.
The truth is, I love you.
I can't fight you any longer, Paul.
Hello, Mom.
- There's some cold chicken in the icebox. - This is plenty. Thanks.
Want some hot coffee?
This is fine.
Gina called. You had a date with her.
I'm sorry. I forgot.
- She's a nice girl. - Yeah.
Maybe it's none of my business, Paul, but I wasn't born yesterday.
- I see what's happening. - Nothing's happening.
You should know.
What do you think, Mom?
She's a married woman. What do you think?
- I don't know. - When will you know?
- They'll publish the scandal in the papers. - Nobody's publishing anything.
Oh, they did it to better men.
You're a clean boy with a clean career, why get involved?
- I tell you, I'm not involved. - You'll have to get up early to fool me.
I don't wanna talk about it.
Paul.
My opinion of Mrs. Wright doesn't matter...
...but I know you.
Inside, Paul, you want a wife, home, children.
- Let me live my life. I know what I want. - Don't let your life get twisted.
It's not the same for you. Your life is different.
You're not someone who can put work in one drawer, his life in another.
Everything you do, everything you think is a part of it.
Wind me up and I play. Concerts on request. Is that all I'm supposed to be?
I want more. I'm not a machine. I've got feelings too.
You have to pay for what you get.
Special people got special things to pay for.
- What's left for me? - Music.
Be careful.
The stakes are big. This isn't a two-hour trip to Chinatown. This is for life.
Think of the future. Think of what it'll be next year and the year after.
Think of your work.
So long, Fitzie.
Gina.
- It's good to see you. How are you, Gina? - Hello, Paul.
I hear the tour went well.
Bauer thinks so. Is he doing anything for you?
It's slow. I'm with the Block String Quartet.
Leopold Stokowski organized a youth orchestra.
I thought Mr. Bauer might arrange an audition for me.
- It's arranged. Let's have lunch together. - I really must wait--
Sid's going to be there.
The Block String Quartet. Why hasn't anyone told me?
Gee, it's nice to see you.
- Why is Sid always late? - You know Sid. He has no sense of time.
It's a modern invention.
Sid has no use for modern inventions.
Maybe he's right. No one seems to have time anymore.
I've been up to my ears, the tour, recordings, Bauer. You know.
- No, I don't. - You're not angry with me, are you?
You're a blank check in my emotions. Any amount you want you can write in.
- Gina, what's the matter with you? - You've changed.
Me? Maybe you've changed.
You're successful. You're in the limelight. That makes you different.
Maybe I'm a little jealous.
We ought to be able to forget old friends, pack them away in some dim corner.
- That would be the kindest way. - What do you expect me to say?
Roses are red, violets are blue and so am I?
I'm blue.
Gina! This is like old home week.
You look lovely. Has anyone told you? Let me be the first.
Helen, I....
Do you know Mrs. Wright? This is Miss Rommeney.
- Hello. - Hello.
Every day and every way. Here, let me give you a kiss.
- Well, won't you join us? - Sorry. I can't stay.
I just came to add my congratulations to the general acclaim.
Excuse me, please.
Hey, wait a minute. Thanks for the lift downtown.
See? When I'm courteous, I'm ignored.
- Maybe I'll never see him again. - You'll see him again.
Temporarily, he's on his way to placate a jealous woman.
- You hear about the tour? We stunned them. - Sid, what is she like?
Helen?
She's as complex as a Bach fugue, born with a silver flask in her mouth.
Helen has a big alumnus association behind her.
- She's quite a gal. - So it seems.
- You're quite a gal yourself. - You're nice, Sid.
Say I'm wonderful or unbearable, but don't ever say I'm nice.
I was in love once. It took me two weeks to get over her.
I played all the 32 Beethoven sonatas. It took exactly two weeks.
So it ain't funny. Why don't we get drunk. Drink to laurel wreaths and curtain calls.
- To fame, fortune and success. - I wanna get out of here.
Sure.
There's an old Irish saying. "Light your pipe. There's only wind and smoke in the world."
Translation: Easy does it.
Easy does it every time, baby.
Want piano lessons? Twenty-five cents a lesson, you'll be my only pupil.
You think you're better than I am, don't you?
- For you, sir? - Sure, why not.
- How many years did you study the whistle? - It's a secondary instrument with me.
- The violin is my dish. - Where did you meet her? Philadelphia?
- Is she one of your ardent admirers? - Gina is an old friend.
Obviously.
Did you play hopscotch with her on the sidewalks in your youth?
She was at the Institute. She's a musician.
That must give you a great deal in common.
- Invite me the next time you play a duet. - I will.
Why didn't you call me?
Philadelphia isn't the end of the world.
I didn't want to.
Thanks. That's nice of you.
- I wanted time to think. - How convenient.
Men want the convenience and none of the difficulties.
- What did you think about, Tchaikovsky? - I thought about us.
- You don't expect me to believe that. - I don't care.
- I'd like to slap your face. - Why don't you try it.
I'm sorry I did that.
The glass is wet.
It makes circles on the table.
Let's get out of here.
- I'm tired of quarrels. - It's not my doing. I didn't want it.
Did you think you could go away for weeks, never call or write...
...and come find me hanging in a closet like a suit you might put on someday?
Paul, what good is a woman if she's no use to anyone?
I....
- I owe you a great deal. - Oh, give it to charity.
Let me help you.
Let me help in the small ways that I can.
You have talent, something solid to hang onto no matter what happens.
I envy you that.
I'll live without the grand opera love is supposed to be, only...
...don't close me out of your life. Please don't.
Take me into your life.
You're married, Helen.
We're both old enough to vote.
It makes me laugh, how much alike we are.
This sparring around like two wrestlers looking for a hold.
At times, a sense of humor's welcome. We don't laugh enough. That's our trouble.
It's your fault. I think you were born angry.
- I don't like angry people. - Evidently, you don't think much of me.
I love you, so I don't care what I think of you.
Mr. Jeffers, is Mr. Boray your protégé?
Our relationship is like George Sand to Chopin.
Could you induce Mr. Boray to come to a small party tonight?
- I'll have to see the guest list first. - Mr. Jeffers!
I'll have to call off our date. I'm sorry. It's okay, let him in.
- I'm his cousin. - They don't even believe I'm his father!
- I hope that hasn't troubled you before? - Wait, Sid. Esther. I forgot.
Esther and the whole family are in there. Let's go in.
- Imagine. I'm his father. - You're brilliant, Mr. Boray.
Paul, you were wonderful.
- My boy. - Terrific, Paul.
I hope I can play as well as you.
Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Encore! I'm the second greatest pianist.
I won't mention the first. Too many guys would get sore.
- You're the most conceited. - I like to be the best.
- Many objectionable people have talent. - Is that so?
I know a lot of talented people who are objectionable.
- Is that so? - Where's that magazine?
The one that said I'm the white hope of the musical world.
It's gotta be easy enough to find. You bought 12 copies.
Here it is.
- Not bad. - First, they discovered Bugs Bunny...
...then Jack Benny and Shostakovich. Now the great Paul Boray!
What? Don't I rate their praises?
You rate a kick in the pants if you believe everything.
The prosecuting attorney in my life.
You won't let me think I'm good.
- Your schooling's ahead, Paul. - That's tough.
You follow one success with another. Then we'll see how tough you are.
- Mom, Pop, how are you? - Hello, Paul.
Come on in.
- Hello, Sidney. - Hello.
- How do you like it, huh? - Wonderful.
Well, it looks bigger than it is.
It's only two rooms, a bedroom, this room and kitchen.
I'm gonna work in here. Come on, look around.
We got a real view. We can see the river.
You know, we can get a sea breeze too.
Why, it's an eagle's nest.
- How do you like it, Mom? - Where did you get the drapes?
Mrs. Wright picked them out. You like them?
- Nice drapes. - That's the kitchen. It's not very big.
But then I'm not a very good cook.
Well, Sidney, what do you think of my Paul's apartment?
I don't know what to say.
Paul has an itch to live a life of fashion and nothing will cure him.
Everything's so expensive and fancy, but what is this ugly pot doing here?
My psychoanalyst told me it reminds me of something that happened in my youth.
So long as you're happy, Sidney, that's all that matters.
Esther, look, our picture's in a silver frame. It's nice, isn't it?
A woman told me this morning I look like an owl. I don't see it.
I think Mom's still mad at me.
Paul, you know women. All mothers think their son's a baby till he gets bald.
No, I don't think she likes the apartment.
I don't think she thinks it's right. Do you?
Well, with all due respect, there are some things, but....
Paul, do what you think is right. Statistics show you'll never be wrong.
- Now, what's through here? - The bedroom, dressing room and shower.
A room for every occasion. It's wonderful.
- What do you think you'll find, Mom? - What I find wherever I look.
- I can't take this seriously. - You don't know what you're doing.
- Mom, don't be old-fashioned. - Is that what you call it?
It's your life, but remember, I told you.
All right. I'm in love with her. Is that what you want me to say?
You know what she is. There's something wrong with a woman like that.
- Please, you don't know what you're saying. - Believe me, it's no good.
- What can marriage mean to her? - You never gave her a chance.
You never liked her, never tried.
- I won't have you talk about her. - I need your permission?
Don't try to tell me what to do!
Paul, did you know man is 60 percent water? I read it in the paper the other day.
There's a leak here. Talk to the landlord about it.
I'll talk to him.
- Is it really possible to hit the bull's eye? - Yes, with practice.
- Like everything else, I suppose. - Like most things.
Had a curious conversation the other day.
A friend of mine...
...wanted some advice.
He's having trouble...
...with his wife.
A young man involved.
And he, my friend, doesn't quite know what to do.
Of course, he hasn't the right to do anything.
- No? Why? - He's only an excuse for a man, really.
Never done very much. Never wanted to.
Fates and a few energetic ancestors...
...have allowed him to lead a rather soft and easy life.
On the whole, he prefers it that way.
Naturally, his wife...
...quite a personality in her own right, never liked that.
Always a bit contemptuous of him.
The peculiar thing is that he loves his wife very much.
In his own way, of course.
He's never been able to prove it to her.
Not man enough, I suppose.
Not enough character, as the Good Book says.
Still, he's learned to make less mess in public than any man living.
Of course, that's only a negative virtue.
It doesn't fool a wife for very long.
What do you know? I hit the bull's eye.
So all things considered, he's thinking of giving his wife a divorce.
- You think that's a reasonable solution? - Victor, stop it.
- Why don't you. - There's nothing to stop.
- Rumor has it otherwise. - Only rumor?
No backstairs gossip? No anonymous letters?
I'm sorry, Helen...
...rumor is a dubious and rather nasty authority.
What can this boy give you? Suppose you do marry him...
...how long would it last?
How long before you get tired of him, or he of you?
You know yourself better than anyone else, Helen.
Can you change now?
And if you don't, do you really believe he'll change?
He doesn't know what it means to be soft.
Nothing means anything to him but music.
- I never said I wanted to marry him. - Do you love him?
You say you've loved me, Victor.
But what kind of a love has it been?
I know you've always been courteous and always remembered my birthday.
But is that the final sum and substance of our marriage? Courtesy and greetings?
I know what I am.
I know what I've become.
I've never had the chance to love. You don't like emotions.
They're wearing. They make demands. They interfere with the pleasant life.
So I've learned to hide away love and hate and everything strong in me.
I've tucked them away where they wouldn't bother us.
We've hung a sign on our lives, "Do Not Disturb."
You can have the divorce, Helen.
- Mr. Boray, a note for you. - Thanks.
- May we take it again from letter G, please? - Certainly.
- Thanks. - Letter G.
- Hello? - Hello, Sid?
- Yeah? - Have you seen Helen?
She was supposed to meet me at the club for dinner.
It's 2:30 in the morning. Have dinner alone.
- Stop kidding. Have you seen her? - She was with Loeffler. Try Teddy's bar.
- Okay. - If not, call me back in an hour.
I ought to be asleep by then.
Does she have to sing that?
Why don't you hire a good trombone player, Teddy.
Ask her to stop, Teddy. She's annoying Mrs. Wright.
No offense, I hope, Teddy.
No offense, Mrs. Wright.
No offense.
Well, what do you know?
This place is haunted.
Hello, Paul.
How about a drink for the gentleman, Teddy.
What are you looking at? Don't you want a drink?
- Gentleman's changed his mind. - You've had enough.
I'm thirsty.
- Nothing for you? Sure? - Nothing.
I wanna take you home.
The gallant knight.
Quiet. Soft music. My friend's being considerate.
He wants to take me home.
- The way you took me to dinner? - I'm sorry. I was held up.
- The rehearsal lasted longer. - I can't spend my life waiting.
- I came as soon as I could. - Wasn't soon enough.
Helen, I'm tired.
- Only the usual. - I wanna go home, get some rest.
- Go ahead. - You're coming.
Leave me alone.
Go back to your music. I'm tired of playing second fiddle to the ghost of Beethoven.
- Put it down. - Mind your own business.
- No offense. Mind your own business. - I said, put it down.
- Look, I don't think Mrs. Wright wants-- - Take your hands off him, Teddy.
I'm sorry. No offense.
That's my line, no offense.
No offense, anybody.
- Let me alone, Paul. I'm a lost crusade. - Turn around.
You're a hangman's noose to me.
Please leave me alone.
Say good night.
Good night, Monte.
- Night, Teddy. - Night, Helen.
Night, Mrs. Wright.
A French philosopher once listed 300 ways of committing suicide.
- Yeah? - He left one out:
Falling in love with an artist.
Be careful, that's the only pot that was ever true to me.
Drink your coffee.
Here we go again. Only a man who doesn't drink...
- ...thinks black coffee sobers you up. - I envy people who drink.
- They know what to blame everything on. - If it's so simple, why don't you drink?
- I have no character. - Don't brag.
- How do you feel? - Who, me?
Oh, wonderful.
I need a hot towel or a cold shower. Either or both or vice versa.
I hate cold showers. They stimulate me.
- Then I don't know what to do. - Try getting some sleep.
It's an idea, not original. I had the idea hours ago.
You were playing games with phones and doorbells.
Maybe it's a personal idiosyncrasy of mine, but loud noises never put me to sleep.
- Sure there's nothing else I can do? - Yeah, I'm sure.
Maybe I can play the Hammerklavier sonata. Takes an hour if I leave out the repeats.
Good night, Sid.
- Sure you don't need me? - Good night, Sid.
Okay, remember, I'm not taking any more calls tonight.
I'm entered in a dog show. I have to be up at 6:00.
- Think I have a chance? - You'll do great.
Autumn's a sad time of year.
When I was a kid, it meant the holidays were over. Back to school.
It's a pretty sight from up here. Not so pretty close up, though. Nothing ever is.
The Boray point of view. The top of the world.
- What are you thinking about? - What happened tonight?
I spoke to Victor. He'll give me the divorce.
- Did you hear? - Yes, I heard.
- He was very kind about it. - Was he?
What else did he say?
- Nothing. - What else did he say, Helen?
- I tell you, that's all he said. - Then why the tears? Why the dramatics?
Why not? I'm losing a husband.
You're hiding something. I know you too well. What happened?
- Why did you go out with Monte? - He offered to buy me a drink.
- You do well enough without him. - I like to drink.
- It's an escape you once told me. - I once told you I loved you.
Why don't you remember that?
- Helen, Helen.... - Don't hold out hope. Beware of pity.
I love you. I wanna marry you.
Marry. It's an easy word to say, isn't it?
It rolls so trippingly off the tongue.
The bride wore white. No.
That's only for the first marriage. Red for the second, black for the third.
- Stop it. - What are you afraid of, Paul? The truth?
You don't want me, not really. It's someone you made up.
You need the homemaker type. Outside of music, you cherish standard virtues.
No, you don't want me, Paul. I'm too wearing on the nerves.
- Why hold up the wall? Let it fall. - You don't know--
- I won't change, you know. - I'm not asking you to anymore.
- It won't work, I tell you. - How do we know?
Why don't you say it? Speak out clear with courage.
Can't you say you don't love me and never wanna see me?
- I wanna marry you. - You're married already. Married to work.
You're married to your music. You'll never marry me.
Don't forget your music, Paul. Don't ever forget your music.
- How I hate music. I detest it. - Stop it. Stop it.
Don't fight. Don't try to fight anymore.
No, I won't. I can't.
I love you, Paul.
I love you.
- Hello, Mrs. Sheff. What can I do for you? - I want some candy for my Monroe.
I have just what you want.
- All-day suckers. - They're so small.
But the days are getting shorter, Mrs. Sheff.
- And I want some bologna. - I have some nice bologna with garlic.
Over on this side.
Oh, excuse me.
I'll be with you in a minute.
Mrs. Wright.
Hope you don't mind my coming. I should've called.
Oh, don't apologize. It's a pleasure. It's an honor.
I bet you haven't been in many grocery stores, have you?
It's too bad it isn't tomorrow. I'm getting a new slicing machine.
Paul bought it for me. Cuts bread and everything.
Would you believe it? You push a button:
The slices come out even.
I don't think Mrs. Wright came to hear these things, Rudy.
- Will you come upstairs, Mrs. Wright? - Thank you.
Mrs. Wright of Fifth Avenue, friend of the family.
- I've got friends on Second Avenue. - I'll cut your bologna.
Why did you come here? You didn't have to.
I have one virtue, Mrs. Boray. I've never lied to myself.
I've lived a meaningless and absurd life among silly and rather futile people.
I tried to run away from it.
The easiest way, of course, was drinking.
- But it didn't work. - And now it's Paul?
Another chance to run away. Another chance to escape.
Oh, no. No, Paul never meant that to me.
Do you know why I tried to help him at first?
I thought he needed my money. But he didn't.
He wants to marry you. Marry.
You've been married before, Mrs. Wright. How many times? Three, four?
And you've failed. And if you fail now, what happens to Paul?
What about his work, his music?
He's put his whole life into it. Do you know what that means to him?
You talk about love. What love?
You only make demands. You only think of yourself.
You give nothing in return.
Leave him, Mrs. Wright. Leave him alone.
- How old was he then? - Eleven.
You know, every time I play a concert, I feel those critical knives being sharpened.
And my scalp begins to tingle.
Say, did Sid tell you about Helen and me?
- Yes, since you asked. - She's getting a divorce.
Well, what do you think? She's gonna marry me.
She'll add salt and pepper to your life. She's quite a woman, if I'm any judge.
- Is she drinking? - Not a drop.
Well, that's more than I can say for myself.
- But then, I'm not in love. - I know your type.
You believe in marriage only as a last resort.
- How are you feeling this evening, sir? - Complicated question. Haven't time for that.
- Helen's tickets are still at the box office. - Are you sure?
She may be a little late. It's a long drive down from the beach.
My mother?
The box is empty.
Thanks.
Hello.
Just a moment. It's Helen.
Helen. Helen, where are you? Why aren't you here?
Always the same thing. I have enough to think about without trying to figure out...
...where you are and what you're doing? Don't you realize I have a concert to play?
Do you wanna ruin my concert, ruin my career, ruin everything, is that what?
Where are you? What are you doing?
- Are you drinking? - No.
No, I'm not drinking, really I'm not.
But I swear it, darling.
Please believe me, and don't scold. I don't wanna be scolded anymore.
Yes. I should've called you. I meant to come, up to the last minute.
I was all dressed and ready, as a matter of fact-- What?
But, Paul, it's so quiet here.
It's such a long drive and then there will be so many people.
Please try and understand. Don't make me explain.
It isn't as if I'll miss the concert. I won't. The radio's on now. Can you hear it?
Paul?
You're still angry, aren't you? Oh, yes, you are. I can tell.
Don't, Paul. Don't.
But of course I want it to go well. You know that.
Oh, listen to me. Listen. Darling, I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you.
You mustn't worry because everything's all right.
It's just that it's so quiet here.
The rest and quiet are doing me a world of good.
It's so beautiful and peaceful. There isn't a soul on the beach.
I can see the sky in the water.
There's a smudge of smoke out there almost at the horizon.
It must be a boat, far, far out.
Paul, I wish we were onboard that boat.
So far out that we couldn't see anything but sky and water.
Nothing more.
What?
You didn't hear?
No.
No, it wasn't important. Really, it wasn't.
Yes. Yes.
No, he's gone. I told him he could go. There's no one here. I'm all alone.
But of course I'm all right. There's nothing wrong.
I'll tell you what. Come down tomorrow and we'll drive back to town together.
What? Tonight?
All right, darling. Tonight if you want.
Oh, yes, I'll wait.
Paul? Paul, hello?
It's nothing. I just thought you'd hung up, that's all.
Who?
Well, you go ahead. Of course I understand. And good luck, darling.
Paul.
I love you.
This is Robert Corten again, talking to you from Symphony Hall.
We now come to our guest soloist for this evening, Mr. Paul Boray.
Mr. Boray is making his entrance onstage, followed by Mr. Sidney Jeffers.
Mr. Boray will play his own transcription of music from Richard Wagner's opera...
...Tristan and Isolde.
The houselights are lowered.
Here's to love.
And here's to the time when we were little girls...
...no one asks to marry.
You know yourself better than anyone else, Helen. Can you change now?
And if you don't, do you really believe he'll change?
He doesn't know what it means to be soft.
Nothing means anything to him but his music.
Can't you realize I have a concert to play tonight?
Do you wanna ruin my concert, ruin my career, ruin everything, is that what?
Why don't we go home. There's nothing we can do here.
I....
I need a shave.
Having to shave every day. It's silly.
Shave every day. Why?
Why do I have to shave every day?
She once asked me what it was like to live up here.
The Boray point of view.
It's lonely.
It all seemed so simple once.
Live your life, do your work, as simple as all that.
You find out it's not that easy.
Nothing comes free.
One way or another, you pay for what you are.
Yeah.
Tell Bauer not to worry.
I'm not running away.