[Playing Dvorak's Humoresque]
[Piano playing]
Do you have to play that? You ought to know better.
Run out. Run away.
Pack your bag. Run off somewhere
where they don't know you, never heard of you.
Bury your violin in the deepest hole you can find--
it still wouldn't do you any good.
You think you hate music now.
You don't. You couldn't.
Music is a compulsion, an obsession with you.
You'll blow up into a thousand pieces
if you don't play it.
What did you think a concert career
would be like?
Something you could put together
with toothpicks and mucilage?
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 there in the waxed wood?
There's your biography.
Paul Boray--
virtuoso, artist.
Why don't you leave him alone, Bauer?
[Door closes]
All my life, I--
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.
[Organ playing]
Kid I used to be.
[Cheering and yelling]
[Organ playing Humoresque]
Man: Philip, take that whistling cigar
out of your mouth.
You can't deliver groceries and blow a kazoo.
Hi, pop.
Paul, off with the coat, up with the tapioca.
No. Leave your coat on. Wash your face.
You're going out with papa.
Paul is going out with papa?
You're going to buy him a birthday present.
Why, Esther, Saturday's my busiest day.
Besides, you cooked him a cake.
A cake is enough. When I was a boy--
when you were a boy,
what was a birthday without a present?
All right. I'll build him a nice house
with a ketchup carton I been saving.
You take him to Jeffers
and let him choose what he wants.
He's too old to play house anymore.
And he's too young to know what he wants.
No matter. If he wants it, it's a good present.
[Piano playing]
Well, here we are, Paul.
Lots of nice things, aren't there?
Hello, Mr. Jeffers.
Hello, Boray. Something for the boy?
Well, who else? Look around, Paul.
Pick something, anything.
Up to a dollar and a half.
Well? Ah, the sheep.
But the small one's better. Look.
[Honks] It's almost human.
Wouldn't you like that, boy?
Nah, that's for kids.
Maybe there's something for big boys.
Let's see. Oh, here's something.
A windmill. Wouldn't you like that?
No.
No, he doesn't like it.
Does 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, Honus Wagner.
Bang, bang! Honus Wagner.
Bang, bang! Ty Cobb.
Wouldn't you like to be a Ty Cobb, Paul?
No.
He doesn't want that.
Hello, Paul. Hi.
Want to take some piano lessons?
Nah.
I'll give you a special rate--
25 cents a lesson. Even if you pay,
you'll be my only pupil.
Nah. Violin's prettier than a 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 all the time.
Play something.
[Off-tune chords]
I know that. Just give me a minute.
Paul. Paul!
Paul!
Another Paderewski in the family.
Phil with his kazoo,
and now you with a violin.
You said I could have anything I want.
All right. A toy, a drum, a little horse.
A toy is all right.
But what does a boy want with a violin?
For a piece of wood and glue and horsehair?
Take the fire engine.
Why don't you let him take the fiddle?
He could do worse, you know.
For instance, he might grow up to be a piano player.
You ought to know, Sidney.
Pianist and composer. Rates on request.
I'm 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, for instance,
how much do you make per week, or per year even?
Money? Cash money? Yes.
I think I'll write a song entitled
if I had a million, would I talk to you?
Right now I'm a bargain-basement genius.
And you want my son to be genius number 2.
What a future. Paul, take the baseball bat.
I want the violin.
He wants the violin. Statistics show in America
a million boys are crying for baseball bats!
It isn't good enough for my son. 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 can imagine how much trouble I had getting a piano.
Mr. Boray, you forgot your hat.
Mr. Boray: I'm sorry, Mr. Jeffers.
[Sidney playing piano]
What happened?
Your son. 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?
So he'll scratch at it for 2 weeks.
Then it's thrown in the closet along with Phil's saxophone.
You remember Phil's saxophone?
You hoped maybe then, too, 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 thrown-away money. Waste and foolishness.
What for, Esther? What for?
It means something, Rudy,
when a boy asks for something himself.
It means he's got an idea in his head
he'll forget in a couple of 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 will 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?
Uh-huh.
Make a wish, Paul. Make a wish.
Girls: 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?
Phil: Will you put that thing away?
Boy: Hey! We're going to play ball!
Anybody want to play ball with us?
Hey, Phil, where's Paul?
He's practicing!
Aw, does he have to?
He don't have to!
You mean he wants to?
[Playing scales off-key]
[Playing music]
[Orchestra playing]
[Music stops]
[Paul continues playing]
Conductor: Mr. Boray.
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
once in a while?
This overture is written for full orchestra,
not for solo violin.
Let's try it both ways.
Let's try it as the composer wrote it.
Shall we, Mr. Boray?
All right. I'm sorry.
[Taps baton] All right. Once more from the double bar.
This time,
Mr. Boray has promised to rejoin the orchestra.
[Laughter]
It occurs to me, Mr. Boray, that you are very fresh.
Well, that's exactly the quality
that I like in your playing.
All right. From the double bar.
[Orchestra begins playing]
Paul: I'm right behind you, Gina.
You get it? You see what I mean?
Bach is church windows.
Beethoven is a giant range of mountains.
Wagner is a storm.
Debussy is the wind and the trees.
And you? What are you?
Me? I'm the dynamo that makes them all tick.
I've got a self-starter. I don't need anybody's help.
I'll knock this town on its ear once I get started.
Nobody sits on my head--
it's a head that's full of talent.
You know, last week, I met Jose iturbi.
You know what he told me?
"Practice, practice. Learn what they want
and play it. Just like that," he said.
Paul. Huh?
We passed my house.
Oh, I'm sorry. Remind me to let you
get in a word every once in a while.
You know, when I get wound up like this,
I just go on and on
until someone changes the needle.
I know how you feel.
Do you? Really?
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 just 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 are in my fingers,
waiting to get out.
There's nothing that can stop me.
Nothing can get in my way.
I don't start to feel alive until--
hey.
If I told you I loved you,
would you laugh?
No.
Vendor: Evening paper! Read all about it!
Well, I do.
You see? I'm not laughing.
Evening paper! Get your evening paper!
Hey.
Evening paper!
Read all about it!
Hi, Eddie. How did the yanks do?
They won both games.
Great. Thanks.
[Violin playing]
Mr. Boray: De Lorenzo, 18.62.
Thompson, 11.33.
Credit, credit, credit. Nobody pays anymore.
I know they got to eat, Esther,
but we got to eat, too.
A depression is a depression for us
as well as for everybody else.
What depression? With 2 chickens in every pot?
It's no joke, Flossie.
It's no jokeat all.
Whoever said it was funny?
Ma, 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 "please 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 stone wall.
Did you eat anything?
No. I'm not hungry.
What are you doing home so early?
You didn't get canned, did you?
Maybe I'll go down and get your job.
Oh, you're welcome to it. They got a bright new idea--
I got to go back to work tonight.
Open evenings for the rest of the summer.
3 times a week. Customer's always right.
Does he have to play that violin
all the time?
He's not bothering anybody.
All right, I'll crawl in a hole
till his nibs gets the urge to stop playing,
or 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."
Eh-eh-eh-eh.
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 out 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 like me.
Philip is right, Esther. We're all 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 in the family.
Is that too much to ask?
All this practicing, these teachers.
He'll never amount to anything.
Esther, 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.
Esther: It's different with Paul.
Different? Don't he eat? Don't he wear clothes?
What's different?
What's wrong with getting a job?
There's nothing wrong with it,
but if you can be a Heifetz or 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.
[Door slams]
Happy days.
What's right is right. I was just--
[bell rings]
[Door closes]
My father keeps saying it's a waste of time, my playing.
He doesn't understand me or my ambitions.
Nobody sits on my head, Sid.
I'm not gonna go on being a parasite.
From now on, I pay my way. I want a job.
3:00 in the morning?
What kind of a job you talking about?
Playing violin. What else do I know?
That's what this depression needs--
another violin player.
Cigarette?
No, thanks. I've got one.
Why don't you hire yourself a costume
and play gypsy variations in a Hungarian restaurant?
Don't horse me around, Sid.
I'm not, Paul, I'm not.
But 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
before you tear my shade down.
Ah, you're no help. You're laughing at me.
You're too sensitive.
I didn't come up here to be analyzed.
That's the trouble. You want advice.
What makes you think I know?
I play pianoin a monkey suit
with a bunch of other guys
all dressed up in monkey suits.
Piano.
Schmaltz!
Listen, Paul, I can be unhappy in any key.
"Depress" is my favorite word.
You know why? Shmaltz. Is that what you want?
I know what I don't want. I don't want to feel like a heel
every time I eat a piece of bread in my own house.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life
living in a hot box over a grocery store,
or feeding on gum and chocolate drops
out of penny slot machines.
Hot in summer, freezing in winter,
always worrying about the bill that wasn't paid yesterday
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 whole way of life,
not something you can decide in a minute.
Who knows if you're gifted enough
to become a success as a concert violinist?
That's the point.
Is it? What?
Maybe I'll end up teaching kids
how to fiddle for half a dollar a throw.
There's no guarantee.
Guarantee? There's no guarantee for anything that's real.
Would you say to a girl, "I'll marry you
if I have a guarantee we'll be happy"?
You're a dead pigeon if you look for 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.
You're a Sincere kid, but you're suffering
from the old American itch--
you want to get there fast
and you don't want to 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.
[Shades flapping]
[Piano playing]
[Orchestra playing]
We're running overtime.
There will be a cut here, gentlemen.
Cut from letter "D"...
To letter "R".
That'll be 8 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 2 chords?
One to open, one to close.
It'll sound just as good.
Even for me, and I don't acknowledge myself
to be the greatest pianist in the world,
that's quite a cut, doctor.
Paul: Sid's right.
I beg your pardon?
I said I agreed with Sid.
You're cutting out the best part of the concerto.
Let me be the judge of that.
It's not a matter of judgment.
It's a matter of the composer's intention.
I apologize for making you unhappy, sir.
I take it you're displeased.
Oh, I'll play it.
On, you don't have to.
I'm sure you'll be much happier
if you're not forced to play in our mediocre company.
We will just have to struggle along without you.
Sid: Hey, wait a minute.
Why don't you give the kid a chance?
He's never played on the radio before.
Ah, don't waste your breath, Sid.
[Plucks strings]
[Dramatic music playing]
Well...
What'd you think?
Coffee?
Look, I asked you a simple question.
Sugar?
What do you want me to do,
blow kisses and shout bravo?
You sound promising.
Thanks. That's a crushing complement.
From now on, you can sign all your letters
"Paul Boray, fiddle player."
I have spoken.
Cut the gags. What'd you really think?
A little too brash.
A little over-brilliant.
You need more restraint.
You didn't like it, huh?
It's not important if I like it.
I don't want to be your personal,
private audience forever.
The idea is for other people to share it.
That's right. For once we agree.
The whole point to me about an artist
is the sound he makes.
The personal sound. It's his own sound,
like no one elsein the whole world.
On a piano, a violin, on any instrument.
That's what's communicated
between an artist and his audience.
That's what you call personality.
If he's got that,
nothing else matters very much.
If he doesn't, he might as well quit.
You might have it.
Then you think I'm terrific?
You took the words right out of your mouth.
Am I ready for concerts?
Sure.
That's all I want to know.
Where are you gonna play?
I'll talk to them down at the school.
They know all the ropes. 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--
pianists, violinists, sopranists,
tuba players, Swiss bell ringers--
all artists. All concert virtuosos.
Do you know what you're up against?
What's that got to do with me?
You want a debut, don't you?
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? Paul Boray?
They never heard of you.
They'd put you on, sure, only you pay.
What does he do for his cut?
Pat me on the back and pick my pocket?
Who goes to debuts? Relatives and enemies.
Why, you need connections even to get people
to come in and listen to you for nothing.
If you have a manager, he supplies the audience.
If he's good, he'll be able to get
a couple of first-string critics down to hear you.
That's important.
What about my playing?
Doesn't that mean anything?
Sure. You fill the lull
between intermissions.
What are you gonna play on--
that 50-buck fiddle?
You can't play a concert
on a cut-rate instrument.
You need a strad or a guarnerius.
Do you have a spare 25 gs to buy one?
I studied 10 years. Break my back.
Practice till my hands feel like wood. For what?
Don't give me any of that stuff now.
You should've told me this 10 years ago.
You weren't good enough
to be disappointed 10 years ago.
You still thought music was all moonlight and pretzels.
You play the piano.
Where are you? What have you done?
It isn't what you are,
it's what you don't become that hurts.
Idealism is a luxury for the very young.
You're full of lectures, aren't you?
The old man of the mountains.
You know all the answers.
You give me a pain.
Don't get sore at me.
I didn't make the world. I barely live in it.
You're always giving out with advice.
Well, if this is where it ends up,
maybe you ought to mind your own business.
Mind my own business? I didn't ask you
to play for me. That was your idea.
You wanted my opinion? Ok, you got it.
I asked for an opinion, not a sermon.
You'll do all right.
You have all the characteristics
of a successful virtuoso.
You're self-indulgent, self-dedicated,
and the hero of all your dreams.
You ought to try a few dreams yourself.
It might make you less cynical.
When I look at you, I know what I want to avoid.
One of us is offensive. Why don't you blow?
Tchaikovsky.
Couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow.
How do you want it, on whole wheat or rye?
Ok. We're both crazy.
Where do we go from here?
How about a party?
Fine. Send down for a couple of beers.
You got 2 bits?
No, I mean the real thing.
Did you ever hear of the wrights?
Sure. They invented the airplane.
Helen and Victor Wright. You must know them.
It's hard to avoid them.
Picture's on the society page. Very social.
They have a yen for la vie boheme.
Good food, good liquor. Open house.
They invite me for laughs. They laugh at me
or I laugh at them, I forget which.
I don't feel in the mood for a party.
Don't be stupid, sweetheart.
It's just the place. Everybody goes there--
maestros and dipsos,
corn-fed composers and calypsos.
That's the breeding ground for successful careers.
Dozens of them have been launched at the wrights'.
Go home and put on your tie.
I'll go 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 nearsighted, you know.
Really? What's her husband like?
Weak. Not a bad sort, just weak.
Is he around?
Yes, he's here.
Where?
Here.
Man: Oh, Victor,
Helen's been asking for you.
Oh, has she? Excuse me.
What do you do? You a prizefighter?
You look just like a prizefighter.
Monty, I bet he's a prizefighter.
I play the violin.
I don't believe you. Go on, play the violin.
I dare you. I bet you don't even know
which end the music comes out of.
Honey--
the middle. It comes out of the middle.
Monty, make him play.
Would you?
Sure. Why not? Just by accident,
I happen 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 anytime you like, you know.
What's the matter?
You're too shy to tell me you detest me?
Have we ever met?
Never saw you before,
and I've enjoyed every moment of it.
I'm sure I've seen you somewhere.
Do you ride the subways?
Not very often.
Probably don't recognize me with my clothes on.
I pose for the underwear ads-- "the body scrawny."
Well, as long as you can't resist me, sit down.
Ha ha! I still think
you look like a prizefighter.
Sid, they want me to play.
What are you going to play?
Zigeunerweisen.Give me an "a," will you?
[Plays notes]
Hey. You just spoiled the beginning
of an odious relationship.
Ok.
Who is that?
I don't know. Someone new.
Well, with all 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.
Ha ha ha!
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.
[Applause]
The genius needs a drink, Teddy.
Gin or scotch?
No, thanks.
2 scotches with a dash of Heather.
[Guests laugh]
You play like a Calliope.
[Guests chuckle]
I beg your pardon?
Now, there's an original answer for you.
He begs my pardon. You're not by any chance
the man who got up and gave his seat
to the lady on the subway, are you?
Or do you come from the provinces?
I was born in New York.
On, 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,
mister--
you do have a name, don't you?
Sure. I'm in the telephone book--
under "violins."
Oh, 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 2 camps--
pro-Boray and anti-Boray.
Which camp are you in, Mrs. Wright?
Pro or anti?
[Playing flight of the bumblebee]
Why, uh...Why did Helen ride him like that?
She's merely getting interested, that's all.
What else, Mrs. Cline?
How much are your apples?
5 cents apiece.
I'll have one.
What are you having? A party?
Mr. Boray: Philip, finish this order.
Something else, Mrs. Cline?
Do you have any butter?
Lots of it.
How much a pound?
45 cents.
On the corner, it's only 30 cents a pound.
Then why don't you go down to the corner?
They're out of it.
When we're out of it, it's only 10 cents.
Ha ha! I'm gonna put him on the stage.
We just got some fine Wisconsin Sauerkraut in.
Paul Boray?
Yes. He's my son.
Sign here, pappy.
Philip: What else, Mrs. Cline?
Mrs. Cline: I'll have a box of soap flakes
and a dozen of eggs.
Thanks, pappy.
A bottle of milk...
Paul!
Yeah?
Come down. A package for you.
Coming.
Well, open it up.
What is it?
Hmm.
A cigarette case.
For you? Where'd 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 played.
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 guess I'll have to change my plans *
* I should have realized *
* there'd be another gal *
* I overlooked that point... *
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 have 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 and the other was a caveman.
Between the two of them, I said good-bye to girlhood.
You're still very young.
Take that glint out of your eye.
Glint?
Mm-hmm, that gleam.
I don't know how you men get that way,
but every time you meet an attractive 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 going to split the world into 2 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, uh...
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?
No. I've never met him.
* when my heart *
* stood still *
receptionist: Yes, Mr. Bauer?
Check the open dates in Manhattan hall
for a recital-- Violin.
Mrs. Wright will pay for it.
[Playing Humoresque]
Esther, people are watching.
You must not do that.
He sounds better here
than he does in the kitchen.
Shh!
Ask Mr. Boray to join us.
Gee, I...
I never thought I'd be so nervous.
I feel as if I've been through a 6-day bike race.
I'm all in.
If you don't sweat, it's not so good.
That's when you can really begin to worry.
You know, I thought I was better in the second half.
I--I kind of got warmed up a little.
Don't you think I was a little cold
in the beginning?
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 whole concert all over again.
Listen, no matter how many concerts you play,
you'll always have the penalty
of not satisfying yourself.
Preserve that feeling of dissatisfaction,
and you'll be ok.
Well...
Hey, wait a minute.
This has to go on a headwaiter tomorrow night.
I'd like to go somewhere and hide.
I don't want to 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 Frank 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.
Heh. And then I fluffed that fast passage
in the Brahms.
Don't worry.
You won't hear from Brahms in the morning.
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.
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 want to get things ready.
Esther, maybe we can take the picture home
for a souvenir.
There'll be other pictures.
But it's a beautiful picture.
You wouldn't want to offend her, right?
You know how women are.
Helen would be disappointed if you didn't show up.
Paul: My family's having a little party.
Thanks, anyway.
Oh, come along.
Bauer: You should go.
Just for an hour, how about it?
Paul: Ok, just for an hour.
Mr. Boray: 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, Paul? He's talking about you.
Ah, bunk.
I'll take that bunk every day
for an appetite.
Don't believe everything you read in the papers.
You came home late last night.
Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, mom.
I couldn't get away. Honest.
It's all right. It was nothing.
Just some cake and a little wine.
It 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?
I'll call her later.
Mr. Boray: 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.
Ha ha!
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.
Mr. Boray: Ah! Listen to this!
"The concert was notable
for the unfailing beauty of tone."
Mmm. See, I told you. The other one was jealous.
Statistics show that 80% of jealous critics
are broken down,
disappointed musicians, anyway.
[Bell rings]
Ah! Customers! I must show them the papers.
Here.
No, no. This one is prejudiced.
Ha ha ha!
It's nice of the wrights
to show such an interest in you.
Oh, it's the fiddle, mom.
They like the way I play the violin.
Paul: I hate to take up your time
like this, Mrs. Wright.
I really appreciate it.
Nonsense. It wasn't even my idea.
Bauer thought of it. I have the reputation
for knowing good clothes, food, and wine.
Bauer said something conservative.
Yeah. Conservative and dark.
The curse of the classics. They demand respectability.
No, no, no. Not that. Take the serge.
Mrs. Wright knows value.
You mean that?
Yes. You see, a good suit mustn't have any bones in it
like ribs in an umbrella.
It's the drape of the cloth that does it.
Well, I wouldn't know anything about that.
I just have time enough 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.
[Piano playing]
[Violin playing]
Thank you, Mr. Boray.
Well, Anton, what do you think?
Good. Excellent in many ways.
Then you'll forgive me?
Forgiving you, Helen,
is like an old and not unpleasant habit.
I knew you wouldn't come
if I told you you had to listen to a recital.
You, know, 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.
Good-bye, Mr. Jeffers.
If the orchestra's hard up for funds,
I'll be gladto help out.
Thanks again, Anton, for coming.
Give my love to Lisa.
You know, I don't think he knew
we were going to play.
He didn't seem to mind.
He left the first chance he got--
which reminds me-- Mr. Hagerstrom!
Do you mind dropping me off downtown?
I have to report to my parole board every 2 weeks.
Good-bye.
Good-bye, Helen.
Why are you angry?
Didn't Hagerstrom know I was coming here to play?
Well, no, not quite.
Well, you might have told me that.
I took it for granted you'd want to play for him.
Sure I wanted to. I respect Hagerstrom.
I respect his opinion. That's not the point.
And just what is the point?
Well, it was the way you did it.
Without him knowing about it.
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
or the discovery of a new painter?
You think it's pleasant to stand around here
and be patronized by a woman?
Doesn't it ever occur to you to be grateful for anything?
Sure. I'm grateful for the debut, for Bauer,
I'm grateful for the chance
to play for Hagerstrom.
That's about the list so far, isn't it?
I'm in your debt.
I don't ever recall having mentioned it.
Well, you didn't do any of this for me, really.
You did it for yourself.
The way you buy a racehorse
or build 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--
oh. 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--
ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.
Do you remember that one?
Sure. I also remember
"beware of the Greeks bearing gifts."
Hello, darling. Paul.
Victor, you're just in time.
Paul was upbraiding me for my bad manners.
Was he?
Yes. It seems I don't know the etiquette of gratitude.
Bourbon for you, Victor?
Please. Won't you have something?
No, thank you.
They say people who drink a lot
are frustrated.
Or thirsty.
Or unhappy.
Did you like Hagerstrom?
Your wife was kind enough to introduce me.
You really should have heard him, Victor.
He has some very original ideas.
He's been expanding on my general uselessness.
Soda for you, Victor?
Please.
He thinks I live a wasted life.
Oh, Sinbad and the mermaid.
What news of the guppies?
Meet any interesting salmon lately?
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 feel in need of water,
I take a shower.
Want to play catch?
No.
Would you? No.
Ungrateful people. You invite me to the beach,
you drive me out in style to the cool sea breezes,
you 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
all afternoon.
Every man has his own form of exercise.
This is your party, sweetheart.
You know your way around here.
Where's the food, or do we munch seaweed
to keep in the spirit of the thing?
The sandwiches are inside if you want them.
You mean I have to walk inside?
[Coughs]
Wonderful sea air.
Tell me, 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?
[Whistling]
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, you know.
Who says you haven't?
What are you afraid of, Helen?
I'm just careful.
Of what?
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 the gay gag, the 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'd you ask me out here today?
I was coming out anyway.
I thought youmight 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?
Helen: 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 got to get back for broadcast.
Clear head and nimble fingers.
Just one?
Broadcast. I play background music
for a happy drama called life's a dream.
The girl in the story is going blind.
Her boyfriend just discovered
there's insanity in his family.
Mama's a widow with a mortgage that's 6 years overdue.
The kid brother's wanted by the cops.
Otherwise, their life is just one laugh after another.
As you can see, I'm a man of fragments.
A little here, a little there.
Beach, broadcasting--
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 to talk to 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.
Helen: 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?
Oh...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.
Oh, hello, mom.
There's some cold chicken in the icebox upstairs.
This is plenty. Thanks.
Want some hot coffee?
Mm-mm. This is fine.
Gina called.
You had a date with her.
Um, 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 have eyes. I can see what's happening.
There's nothing 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? When it's too late?
When they'll publish the whole scandal
in the papers?
Nobody's publishing anything in the papers.
Oh, they did it to better men.
Believe me, you're a clean boy
with a clean career. Why should you get involved?
I tell you, I'm not involved.
You'll have to get up early in the morning
before you'll fool me.
I don't want to 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 own life. I know what I want.
Don't let your life get twisted.
It's not the same for you as for other people.
Your life is different. You're not like someone
who can put his work in one drawer
and 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?
Well, I want something 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 2-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.
[Orchestra playing]
So long, Fritzie.
Gina...It's good to see you.
How are you, Gina?
Hello, Paul.
I hear the tour went well.
Bauer seems to think so. Is he doing anything for you?
Oh, it's slow.
I'm playing with the block string quartet.
I heard Leopold Stokowski
had organized a youth orchestra,
and I thought Mr. Bauer
might arrange an audition for me.
It's arranged.
Come on, let's have lunch together.
No, I really must wait for Bauer--
come on. Sid's gonna be there.
The block string quartet?
Why hasn't anyone told me about these things?
Gee, it's nice to see you.
[Zing! Went the strings of my heart playing]
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, Gina.
The tour, recordings, Bauer.
You know how it is.
No, I don't. Ah, come on.
You're not really angry with me, are you?
You're a blank check on 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
like last year's souvenirs.
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! Ginatchka! This is like old home week.
Gina, you look lovely.
Has anyone told you you're lovely today?
Let me be the first.
Helen, I--do you know Mrs. Wright?
This is miss Romany.
How do you do?
Every day, in every way.
Here, let me give you a kiss.
Well, uh, 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, Mr. Boray's on his way
to placate a jealous woman.
Did you hear about the tour?
We stunned them.
Sid, what is she like?
Helen? She's as complex as a Bach fugue.
She was 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.
You can say I'm wonderful,
you can say I'm unbearable,
but don't ever say I'm nice.
Did I ever tell you I was in love once.
Took me 2 weeks to get over her.
I played all the 32 Beethoven sonatas.
It took exactly 2 weeks.
Ok, so it ain't funny.
Why don't we get drunk together?
We can drink to Laurel wreaths
and curtain calls,
to fame, fortune, and success.
I want to 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.
You want to take piano lessons?
25 cents a lesson. You'll be my only pupil.
You think you're better than I am, don't you?
[Piano playing]
* you do something to me *
* something that simply mystifies me *
* tell me, why should it be *
* you have the power to hypnotize me? *
[whistling]
* let me live beneath your spell... *
and you, sir?
Sure. Why not?
[Whistling]
* you do something... *
how many years did you study the whistle?
Like the piano,
it's a secondary instrument with me.
The violin is my dish.
Where did you meet her?
In Philadelphia after the concert?
Is she one of your ardent admirers?
Gina is an old friend.
Obviously. Did you play hopscotch with her
on the sidewalks of New York 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?
You might have, you know.
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 are like that.
They want all the convenience
and none of the difficulties.
What did you think about?
The life and times of
Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky--
I thought about us.
You don't expect me to believe that, do you?
I don't care what you believe.
I'd like to slap your face.
Why don't you try it?
[Crash]
[Piano stops playing]
I'm sorry I did that.
The glass is wet.
It makes circles on the table.
Let's get out of here.
[Piano resumes]
* what is this thing *
* called love? *
* this funny thing *
* called love *
I'm tired of quarrels.
It's not my doing. I didn't want it.
Did you think you could go away for weeks,
almost months, never call or write,
and come back and find me hanging in a clothes closet
like a suit that you might put on someday a year from now?
Paul, what good is a woman if she's no use to anyone?
I...
I owe you a great deal.
Give it to charity.
Let me help you.
Let me help you in the small ways that I can.
You have talent,
you have something solid to hang on to
no matter what happens in your personal life.
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, Paul.
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 2 wrestlers looking for a hold.
At times, a sense of humor is 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. Did you know that?
Evidently you don't think so much of me.
I love you, so I don't care what I think of you.
[Orchestra playing]
[Music continues]
[Applause]
Mr. Jeffers. No autographs.
Is Mr. Boray your prot g?
Our relationship is the same
as George sand's was with Chopin.
Could you induce Mr. Boray
to come to a small party tonight?
I'm sorry, I'll have to see the guest list first.
Mr. Boray: Sidney, come here!
I'll have to call off our date. I'm sorry.
It's ok. Let him in.I can vouch for him.
I'm his cousin!
They don't even believe I'm his father.
I hope that thought hasn't troubled you before.
Wait, Sidney. Esther--I forgot Esther.
Esther? Esther and the whole family
are in there. Let's go in.
Imagine. I'm not his father.
Man: Brilliant, Mr. Boray.
Paul, you were wonderful.
Wonderful. My boy.
Men: Terrific, Paul. I hope I can play as well...
[Piano playing]
Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Encore!
I'm the second-greatest pianist in the world.
I won't mention the first. Too many guys would get sore.
At least you're the most conceited.
I'd like to be the best at something.
Many objectionable people have talent.
Is that so?
You know, I know a lot of talented people
who are objectionable.
Is that so?
Say, Sid, where's that magazine?
You know-- The one that said
I was the white hope of the musical world?
It ought to be easy enough to find.
You bought 12 copies.
Oh, here it is.
Hmm. Not bad.
First they discovered bugs bunny.
Then Jack Benny and Shostakovich.
Now the great Paul Boray.
What's the matter?
Don't I rate their praises?
You'll rate a swift kick in the pants
if you begin to believe everything they write about you.
Prosecuting attorney in my life.
You won't ever let me think I'm good, will ya?
Your schooling's all ahead, Paul.
That's tough.
You try to follow one success with another.
Then we'll see how tough you are.
[Doorbell buzzes]
Mom, pop! How are you?
Hello, Paul.
Come on in.
[Tune of ride of the Valkyries] * oh, mama and papa *
* oh, papa and mama *
* oh, mama and papa *
* oh, mama and pop *
hello, Sidney.
Hello.
Well, how do you like it, huh?
It's...Wonderful.
It looks bigger than it is.
It's only 2 rooms--
a bedroom and this room and a little kitchen.
I'm gonna work in here. Well, come on. Look around.
We got a real view here. We can see the river.
You know, we get a sea breeze up here, too.
Hmm. Why, it's an eagle's nest.
Well, how do you like it, mom?
Where'd 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?
You put me on the spot. I don't know what to say.
Paul has an itch to live a life of fashion.
And nothing will cure him but living a life of fashion.
Everything is so expensive and fancy,
but what is this ugly coffee pot doing here?
My psychoanalyst told me that it reminds me
of something that happened to me in my youth.
So long as you're happy, Sidney.
That's all that matters.
Mm. 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 little baby
till he gets bald and loses his teeth.
Paul: That's not it.
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, always do what you think is right.
Statistics show you'll never be wrong.
Now, what's through here?
Oh, that's a bedroom, dressing room, and shower.
Hmm. 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.
I haven't lived for nothing.
Believe me, Paul, it's no good.
What can marriage mean to her?
You never gave her a chance.
You never liked her.
You never even tried to understand her.
I won't have you talking about her this way.
Do I need your permission to speak?
Don't try to tell me what to do.
Paul! Did you know man is 60% water?
I read it in the paper the other day.
Hmm.
By the way, 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.
I had a curious conversation
the other day.
A friend of mine wanted some advice.
He's having trouble... With his wife.
There's 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.
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.
Doesn't really foola 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?
Oh, Victor, stop it.
Why don't you stop it?
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 his music.
I never said I wanted to marry him.
Do you love him?
You say you've loved me, Victor.
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 birthday greetings?
I know what I am.
I know what I've become,
but I've never had the chance to love.
You don't like emotions.
They're wearing. They make demands.
They interfere withthe 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 will have the divorce, Helen.
[Orchestra playing bizet's Carmen]
[Tapping applause]
Mr. Boray, a note for you.
Thanks.
May we take it again from letter "G," please?
Certainly. Thanks.
Letter "G"!
[Orchestra playing]
[Ring]
Hello?
Paul: 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.
Why don't have dinner alone? It's getting late.
Stop kidding. Have you seen her?
She was with loeffler. Try Teddy's bar.
Ok.
If she's not there, call me back in an hour.
I ought to be asleep by then.
[Piano playing]
* embrace me *
* my sweet embraceable you *
* embrace me *
[Helen singing along] * my irreplaceable you *
* just one... *
* look at you *
* my heart goes tipsy in me *
* you and you alone *
* bring out the gypsy in me *
* I love all the many charms about you *
* above all *
* I want my arms... *
[sobs]
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?
The place is haunted.
Hello, Paul.
How about a drink for the gentleman, Teddy?
What are you looking at?
Don't you want a drink?
The gentleman's changed his mind.
Skoal.
You've had enough.
I'm thirsty.
Nothing for you? Sure?
Nothing. I want to take you home.
Ahh, 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
than I thought it would.
I can't spend my life waiting for you.
I came as soon as I could.
It wasn't soon enough!
Helen, I'm tired. It's been a long day.
Only the usual deadly lengths.
I want to get home. Get some rest.
Go ahead.
You're coming with me.
Leave me alone. Go on back to your music.
I'm tired of playing second fiddle
to the ghost of Beethoven.
Put it down.
Mind your own business.
Ok? Mind your own business.
I said put it down.
I don't think Mrs. Wright--
take your hands off him, Teddy.
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 a--
say good night.
Good night, Monte.
Night, Teddy.
Night, Helen.
Night, Mrs. Wright.
A French philosopher
once listed 300 ways of committing suicide,
only 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.
Oh, here we go again.
Only a man who doesn't drink
thinks black coffee sobers you up.
I envy people who drink.
At least 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.
Why don't you try getting some sleep?
It's an idea, but not original.
I had the same idea hours ago.
Then you started to play games with phones and doorbells.
Maybe it's a personal idiosyncrasy of mine,
but loud noises never put me to sleep.
Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?
Yeah. I'm sure.
Maybe you'd like to hear me play
the Hammerklavier sonata.
It only takes an hour if I leave out the repeats.
Good night, Sid.
Sure you don't need me?
Good night, Sid.
Ok, remember, I'm not taking any more calls tonight.
I'm entered in a dog show.
I have to be up at 6:00 in the morning.
Think I have a chance?
You'll do great.
[Sid whistling]
[Sighs]
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 prettyclose up, though.
Nothing ever is.
The Boray point of view--
the topof 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, Helen.
I know you too well. What happened?
Why'd 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.
Isn't that what you once told me?
I once told you I loved you.
Why don't you remember that?
Helen--
don't hold out hope. Beware of pity.
I love you. I want to marry you.
Heh. Marry--
it's an easy word to say, isn't it?
It rolls so trippingly off the tongue.
The bride wore white.
That's only for the first marriage, isn't it?
White for the first, red for the second,
black for the third. Stop it.
What are you afraid of, Paul?
You afraid of the truth?
You don't want me, not really.
It's someone you made up. You need the homemaker type.
Outside of your music,
you Cherish all the standard virtues.
Oh, 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 what you're talking about.
I won't change, you know.
I'm not asking you to anymore.
It won't work, I tell you. It won't work.
How do we know?
Why don't you say it?
Can't you speak out clear with courage?
Can't you say you don't love me
and never want to see me again?
I want to marry you.
How many times do I have to say it?
But you're married already.
You're married to your work.
You're marriedto your music.
You'll never marry me.
Don't forget your music, Paul.
Don't ever forget your music.
Oh, 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.
Oh, hello, Mrs. Schaff. 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. Schaff.
Oh, and I want some bologna.
With garlic? I have some nice bologna
with garlic. Over on this side.
Oh, excuse me.
I'll be with you in a minute.
Mrs. Wright.
I hope you don't mind my coming.
I really should have called.
Oh, don't apologize. It's a pleasure.
It's an honor. I'll bet you haven't been
in many grocery stores before, have you?
But it's too bad it isn't tomorrow.
I'm getting a brand-new slicing machine.
Paul bought it for me. Cuts bread and everything.
And would you believe it? You push a button--
zip, zip, zip-- all 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 5th Avenue.
Friend of the family.
I've got friends on 2nd 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 a lot of 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--3, 4?
And you 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?
11.
Every time I have to play a concert,
I feel those critical knives
being sharpened.
Heh. 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,
and you know I am. Ha ha.
Is she drinking? Not a drop.
Well, that's more than I can say for myself.
But then I'm not in love.
Oh, I know your type.
You believe in marriage only as a last resort.
How are you feeling this evening, Sid?
That's a complicated question.
Haven't got 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.
[Telephone rings]
Hello?
Just a moment.
It's Helen.
Helen, where are you? Why aren't you here?
Always the same thing, over and over again.
Don't you think 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,
or doesn't that mean anything to you?
Do you want to ruin my concert? Ruin my career?
Ruin everything? Is that what you want to do?
Where are you, anyway?
What are you doing? Are you drinking?
No. No, I'm not drinking. Really, I'm not.
But I swear it, darling!
Oh, please believe me and don't scold.
I don't want to be scolded anymore.
Yes, I know. I know I should've called you sooner,
but I meant to come right up to the very last minute.
I was all dressed and ready as a matter of fact.
What?
But, Paul, it's so quiet here.
Well, it's such a long drive,
and then there would be so many people and...
Please try and understand. Don't make me explain.
And it isn't as if I'll miss the concert.
I won't. The radio is on now. Can you hear it?
Paul?
You're still angry, aren't you?
Oh, yes, you are. I can tell.
Oh, 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 is all right. Really, it is.
It's just that... Well, 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 and 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 on board that boat--
so far out that we couldn't see anything
but sky and water,
nothing more.
What? Heh.
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 you do. You come down tomorrow.
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...
I just thought you'd hung up, that's all.
Who? Oh. Well, you go ahead.
Of course I understand. And good luck, darling.
[Click]
Paul...
I love you.
[Orchestra playing on radio]
[Crying]
[Applause]
Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, this is Robert Courten 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 on the stage,
followed by Mr. Sidney Jeffers.
Mr. Boray is going to play for us
his own transcription of the love music
from Richard Wagner's opera Tristan and Isolde.
The house lights are lowered.
Here's to love.
And here's to the time when we were little girls,
and no one asked us to marry.
[Orchestra playing]
[Orchestra playing on radio]
Victor: 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.
Paul: Can't you realize I have a concert to play tonight?
Or doesn't that mean anything to you?
Do you want to ruin my concert, ruin my career,
ruin everything? Is that what you want to do?
[Wind blowing]
[Music continues]
[Music swelling]
[Music muffled]
[Applause]
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.
We 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.
[Orchestra playing]