A Chorus Line Page #3

Taxi!

-Are you all right?

-That was a hell of a fall.

-Are you okay?

-I'm fine. I'm fine.

Taxi!

-Bloomingdale's.

-Thanks a lot.

Okay, Mike. I'll start with you.

Me?

Aren't you supposed

to start at the end?

So, what would you like to tell me?

I'd like to tell you

to start at the end.

You can wait in the musicians' room.

What am I doing here?

He told me to leave.

I don't care if there's

a tornado out there.

-Shut up. Sorry, are you all right?

-I'm fine.

-You want to put some ice on that elbow?

-I look like a drowned rat.

What made you start dancing?

Because of my sister.

She was a girl.

So my Mom decided she's the one

to get all the dancing lessons.

Every Saturday my mother would take her.

Once in a while she'd take me along.

How old were you?

Four. Five.

I'd sit there all eager and...

I'm watchin' sis go pitter-pat.

Said, "I can do that".

"I can do that".

Knew every step right off the bat.

Said, "I can do that".

"I can do that!"

One morning sis

won't go to dance class.

I grab her shoes and tights and all.

But my foot's too small, so,

I stuff her shoes

with extra socks.

Ran seven blocks,

in nothing flat.

Hell, I can do that.

That I can do!

Give the man some room!

Yeah!

All right!

All thanks to sis,

I can do that.

You have any ice for my ego?

It hurts worse than my elbow.

What did you expect? You know what

Zach's like when he's working.

-If you keep interrupting him--

-Hey!

What're you talking to me

like I'm a grown-up for?

Just stay put.

-And keep that ice on your elbow.

-Larry.

Does Zach still think that I--?

Cassie, let's get one thing straight.

You can stay till you find a place.

But as far as you and Zach are concerned,

I'm not getting in the middle.

Actually, I don't know how

I turned out as heavenly as I did.

Are you going to do a routine?

No, no. Moving right along.

Start with your family.

Do you want to know all the wonderful

things that've happened to me?

Or you want the truth?

I'll take the truth.

My mother had a lot of card parties...

and was one of the foremost

bridge cheaters in America.

My father worked for this

big corporation.

They used to send him

out into the field a lot,

to drink.

But they were okay.

I was the strange one.

How strange?

Real, real strange.

Bizarre.

As I got older,

I got stranger and stranger.

That's when I started

breaking into people's houses.

I didn't steal anything,

I just rearranged their furniture.

I went to this very expensive

private school...

for the exceptionally stupid.

"Jock City".

I was the kid who was always

getting slammed into lockers.

Not only by the students,

by the teachers, too.

I couldn't catch a ball

if it had Elmer's glue on it...

and wouldn't my father have to be

this big ex-football hero.

He was so humiliated that he

didn't know what to tell his friends.

So, he told them all I had polio.

On Father's Day

I used to limp for him.

Oh! And I was always thinking up...

these spectacular ways

how to kill myself.

But I realized, to commit suicide

in Buffalo is redundant.

Okay, Bobby.

Exactly what you don't want, right?

Exactly.

Dick?

Give me the spotlight, will you?

Back to the left. A little more.

Hold it. Sheila.

Yes?

Is there anything you want to tell me?

What do I want to be

when I grow up?

Okay.

Young.

That light--

Don't you have anything softer?

Come closer.

Can I sit on your lap?

Do you always come on like this?

No. Sometimes I'm aggressive.

All right, Sheila.

Tell me about your parents.

My parents?

Tell me about your mother.

My mother.

My poor, dear, sweet, grey-haired,

darling old mother.

She was raised in an orphanage,

by nuns.

They wouldn't let her go out--

Goddamnit!

Can't anybody up there hear me?

Just let your hair down!

Can't you talk?

All of you! Just talk!

To me, to each other.

Jesus Christ!

Better?

Your mother...

Right.

My mother was kind of...

middle-aged and frumpy.

Whose isn't?

At 14 she was middle-aged and frumpy.

Is that the kind of woman

your father liked?

No. My father liked them

very young, tall...

and filled out

in all the right places.

Anyway, uh...

God knows why,

they had this daughter.

Me.

And just to get away from her

frumpy middle-aged life...

she used to take me to every

ballet that came to town.

I think probably because

it was cheaper than a baby-sitter.

That's when I saw that movie...

"The Red Shoes".

You too? It changed my whole life.

I saw that movie 112 times.

I swear, on the grave of my mother!

Go on, Sheila.

Well, let's face it.

My family scene was, uh,

not good.

Daddy thought

he married beneath him.

That's what he said,

that's what he said.

When he proposed

he informed my mother,

he was probably

her very last chance.

And though she was 22,

though she was 22,

though she was 22,

she married him.

Life with my dad

wasn't ever a picnic,

more like a "come-as-you-are".

When I was five

I remember my mother

dug earrings out of the car.

I knew that they weren't hers,

but it wasn't something

you'd want to discuss.

He wasn't warm.

Well, not to her.

Well, not to us.

But everything was beautiful

at the ballet.

Graceful men lift

lovely girls

in white.

Yes, everything was beautiful

at the ballet, hey.

I was happy

at the ballet.

That's when I started ballet class.

Up a steep

and very narrow stairway

to a voice like a metronome.

Up a steep

and very narrow stairway

it wasn't paradise,

it wasn't paradise,

it wasn't paradise,

but it was home.

Mother always said

I'd be very attractive,

when I grew up, when I grew up.

"Different", she said,

"with a special something,"

"and a very, very personal flair".

And though I was eight or nine,

and though I was eight or nine,

and though I was eight or nine,

I hated her.

Now, "different" is nice,

but it sure isn't pretty.

Pretty is what it's about.

I never met anyone

who was "different"

who couldn't figure that out.

So beautiful

I'd never live to see.

But it was clear,

if not to her,

well, then to me,

that everyone is beautiful

at the ballet.

Every prince has got to have

his swan.

Yes, everyone is beautiful

at the ballet.

I was pretty

at the ballet.

I was born to save their marriage.

But when my father came to pick

me and my mother up at the hospital,

he said,

"I thought this was going to help,"

"but I guess not."

A few months later he left

and never came back.

Anyway, I had

this incredible fantasy life.

I used to dance around

the living-room, with my arms up,

like this.

And in my fantasy there was

this Indian chief,

and he'd say to me,

"Maggie, do you want to dance?"

And I'd say,

"Daddy, I would love to dance."

Yes, everything was beautiful

at the ballet.

Raise your arms

and someone's always there.

Yes, everything was beautiful

at the ballet.

The ballet.

The ballet.

Yes, everything was beautiful

at the ballet.

I was pretty,

I was happy,

I would love to,

at the ballet.

Where the hell is the resum

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