Fame Page #3

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Yeah. I was

not feeling that from you.

That is technically what the song is

about. Okay, this is very important.

Jenny, for your

homework tonight,

I want you to go home and write

out all the lyrics to that song

and then work on them like

they're an acting monologue. Okay?

Because there's really

no point in singing a song

if you don't understand

what it is you're saying.

Okay, go sit down. Thanks.

It was pretty. I just wasn't

getting a lot out of it. All right?

Okay.

Okay.

Life will go on.

Okay, next.

Uh...

Let's see. Marco.

That's right.

I want you to sing

the same song,

but I want us to all

really understand

what the song is about.

Do you know it?

Yeah. A little bit.

A little bit?

All right, well, this should

be interesting. Come on.

Hurry up. Grass isn't

getting any greener.

Could you change it

to E-flat?

There's a

somebody I'm longing to see

I hope that she

Turns out to be

Someone who'll watch

Over me

I'm a little lamb

who's lost in the wood

I know I could

Always be good

To one who'll watch

Over me

Yes. That's what I

was talking about, everybody.

Very good, Marco.

Thank you.

So you live in Long Island, right? Yep.

And stay with my dad enough days

to meet the residency requirement.

I'd like to stay with

my mom more, but...

Yeah. Is it worth it?

Of course.

It's what I want. Always

wanted. You understand.

I mean, not everyone

is like you, Jenny.

You know, as committed and focused

as you are. All the damn time.

Yeah, but you're the

best singer in our class.

With that kind of a talent,

you have a responsibility.

I mean, the only thing

I gotta do is be happy.

What?

Do you always take

things this lightly?

I would give anything in order

to stand up in front of class

and sing a song and

be completely in tune.

Or whiz through

a monologue

and have everybody laughing. Jenny...

And there are so many kids in this city

that would love to be going to this school.

You wouldn't understand.

See you in class, Marco.

These are not diaries.

They're journals.

I'm not interested in

what you had for breakfast,

or what you think of

your stepmom's boob job.

Not even your

latest breakup.

I wanna know about

the world you inhabit.

The people around you.

Who are they?

How do they behave?

Language and behavior, that's

all the actor's got to work with.

So keep your eyes open.

Observe. Record.

Mr. Bazinska,

this is disgraceful.

It's unhealthy, it's unsanitary.

No, it's fine. It's clean.

No, it's not unsanitary. It's...

The only thing missing from it

is a finger on the scale. Your

finger on the scale. You're the worst.

How is emotion

expressed through action?

Gesture?

That's disgusting.

What can I say.

Look, it's clean.

So they got all the...

Now what are you doing?

Taking my pictures without

asking! Sorry. Homework.

You're supposed to get me to write

off something before you do that.

I could sue you,

and I could sue you.

Dad, you home?

Understand other people. And

you'll begin to understand yourself.

Bye, Mr. Cranston.

Ms. Dupree.

Yes?

You practice more than any

other student here at P.A.

You are a very talented

classical pianist.

Thank you, Mr. Cranston.

I happen to be looking

for an accompanist

for our spring production

of Chicago.

It might serve you well

to branch out a bit.

Expand your horizons.

Okay, so what

does this entail?

It's just a couple rehearsals.

It might go a little late...

Okay, what's "late"?

Midnight.

Midnight? Only on the

nights it performs.

That's what

Mr. Cranston said.

Daddy, it's a big honor for a freshman to

be asked to play for one of the musicals.

And it's Chicago!

Do you realize...

You are training to be

a classical pianist.

Can you tell me how

playing honky-tonk songs

till all hours of the night

is gonna help with that?

It won't, but it

would be fun. Fun!

Something new! Daddy, I want to do

something different for a change.

"Something different" was

never part of the deal, Denise.

You will be saying "no" or I will be

pulling you out of that school. Period.

I'm sorry.

Ma, I was gonna tell you.

Performing Arts?

Do you have any idea

how risky that is?

As a career?

Of course I do.

Malik, you're trying to do

something everyone wants to do.

Every teenager on this block thinks

they can make it as the next rapper...

Look, Ma. You have to let me stay

there. It's everything I have now.

I just don't know

about this.

Look, they're good grades!

Did you even look at it?

Look, Ma.

I'm talented.

If somebody's gotta make it

out there, why can't it be me?

And who in the world told

you you were so special?

You did.

I just can't deal with this

right now. I'm late for work.

All right. Bobby.

Okay. Kevin!

Look out!

Yeah?

Master Tavares,

you play with Ian,

brio, gusto, panache

and a host of foreign adjectives

that indicate excessive style.

What you neglect to do is

play the music as written.

And though your interpretation

may be entertaining,

it is of no value

in my class.

May I suggest that the only thing of

value you could possibly bring to Bach

is your respect.

And unless you devote

yourself to study,

drill and mastery

of technique,

you will be of little or no value

to anyone. Including yourself.

Now let's try this

again, as written.

Parenthetically,

study, drill and technique

do not stifle talent.

They free it. Once more.

Mr. Cranston.

This music, it's boring.

It's just not my thing.

No, it's Bach's thing.

Stubby little German guy.

Wore a wig.

Yeah, and he died

His teachers told him to stop

playing music his way. He said no.

Really?

Well, if his teachers told

him that, then they were wrong.

And should your music

survive for

the next 350 years,

please allow me to

apologize in advance.

Proceed. We will suffer

through it with you.

She was

eight years old.

Her name was Ayanna.

Means "beautiful flower."

She was always

on the street, playing,

jumping rope.

Happiest girl

you ever saw.

She didn't see

the man in the car

or the man running past,

until the bullets flew.

The day after

she was buried,

I got this.

I was only 13

at the time.

I thought my mom

would whup my ass.

But she didn't.

Said I should remember

every single day

what happened to

my little sister.

How did

her death affect you?

I mean, you've

given us the facts.

And you waited till the end to let

us know that Ayanna was your sister,

which was very dramatic.

But I want to know

how you felt.

And I think you need

to know how you felt.

How do you think I felt?

Well, I have no idea.

Why don't you tell us?

You know what?

Screw this.

I ain't gonna cry for you.

I gave you the truth.

Is that what happened? Did

you cry the night she died?

Did you blame yourself? Do you

think you could have prevented it?

Listen, I'm

gonna be famous.

And I don't need you

or your therapy bullshit!

So screw this and

screw this class!

The theater is not a

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