Florence Foster Jenkins Page #2

He's raping my ears.

Make him stop, make him stop.

Thank you!

Thank you very much, Mr Zeigler.

Thank you, Mr Zeigler! Thank you!

Very good. We'll... We'll be in touch.

Thank you again.

Gentlemen, the chairs are not

for practical use. You have been told.

- Cosm McMoon?

- That's me, sir.

Come.

Sorry.

- What should I play?

- Well, I really don't mind.

As long as it's not too loud.

( Saint-Sans:
"The Swan")

- What loveliness.

- Hmm.

What is he playing?

Some Saint-Sans bullshit.

- Yeah.

- (sniggering)

You know...

You know, when I was...

when I was 16 years old,

my father told me that if I didn't

give up music and marry a dull banker,

he'd cut me off.

(both laugh)

That's true.

Sorry. It's OK, continue, Mr McMoon.

(resumes playing)

Course, he didn't understand musicians.

We'd rather go without bread

than Mozart, wouldn't we?

It's not even a choice for us.

Course, he did cut me off,

but I got myself

a little apartment in Philly

and I made a living

teaching piano to children.

And we'd play The Swan and...

That was my favourite.

Wow. Great story.

Yeah, it is, isn't it?

Course, he came round eventually

and then I was back in the will.

(chuckles)

Yes.

(holds last note)

Well, I must say,

I think you're absolutely ideal.

Did I mention that I also compose?

- And he also composes.

- Yes, I'm sure he does.

Well, you know, there are

some other candidates to hear, Bunny.

- (Florence) Hmm?

- Some more.

- Do you know any of them?

- I do.

They're all rather... heavy-handed,

I'm afraid.

The son of a b*tch.

Madam Florence regrets she is unable

to hear any more candidates today.

- It's unbelievable.

- I trained at Juilliard...

I am so very sorry.

- Why?

- You're not her type.

Now, I must warn you, I work very hard.

I study an hour every day.

Sometimes two.

And my father didn't leave me

as much money as everybody thinks,

so I couldn't pay you

more than a hundred and fifty.

- A month?

- A week.

I'm not destitute.

A few pointers

as to how Madam Florence does things.

You will note that she carries a leather

briefcase with her at all times.

You are not to touch that briefcase

or to enquire as to its contents.

Right.

In the hall, Madam Florence

keeps a collection of chairs

in which people of note have expired.

- They're not for practical use.

- I understand.

She abhors all pointed objects,

so don't smoke in her presence or

hand her a knife or anything like that.

- Are you fond of sandwiches?

- Yes.

Good, good. Madam Florence

is inordinately fond of sandwiches.

And potato salad as well.

When we throw parties,

we make mountains of the stuff.

It would serve you

to consume both with enthusiasm.

- I shall.

- Good morning, Patrick.

So, here is a week in advance

and a teeny bit extra for a new shirt.

Thank you.

If you can forgive Madam Florence

her little eccentricities,

you will find her to be

a most generous and delightful person.

Ours is a very happy world.

Welcome, Mr McMoon.

Tomorrow morning at nine. Don't be late.

- I won't, sir.

- Good.

(man) Taxi! Taxi!

- (doorman) Good morning.

- (woman) Good morning.

- Mr McMoon is here.

- Oh, do come in, Mr McMoon.

This is the talented young man

I was telling you about.

- How do you do, Mr McMoon?

- My vocal coach.

Maestro Carlo Edwards, assistant

conductor at the Metropolitan Opera.

How do you do, sir? I saw you conduct

La Bohme last season.

Oh, no, please don't remind me.

(laughs) Carlo!

- He's kidding. He's kidding.

- (laughs)

- (Florence clears throat)

- I've learned everything.

- I'm virtually off score.

- Good. Then let's get started.

(chuckles)

Here we are. The Bell Song.

Oh. Isn't it a little early

in the morning for Lakm, Carlo?

Not for a singer of your ability.

Whenever you're ready, Mr McMoon.

(plays intro to the "Bell Song")

No. No, uh, no.

A little more allegretto, please,

if you don't mind, Mr McMoon.

Sorry.

(plays intro)

(sings coloratura out of tune)

(voice swoops up and down tunelessly)

(voice cracks as she sings a low note)

(Carlo) Raise the soft palate.

(voice cracks)

Good.

(continues to sing coloratura

out of tune)

Use the air.

On the breath.

(sings quietly, still out of tune)

Project forward.

(sings loudly)

(shrieks)

(voice swoops to a low note)

(mouths)

(mutters under his breath)

Bella.

O va la jeune Indoue

- Fille des Parias

- Think of the mask, Florence.

Quand la lune se joue

La squillo.

Dans les grands mimosas

The voice is in the mask.

Quand la lune se joue

(squawking coloratura)

Dans les grands mimosas

Le long des lauriers roses

(Carlo) Yes.

- Rvant de douces choses

- Yes, yes.

(sings squawking coloratura)

(gruffly)

Elle passe sans bruit

Et riant la nuit

(sings coloratura)

(sings sustained out-of-tune high note)

Stop there.

There's work to be done.

But you've never sounded better.

- (Carlos chuckles)

- Oh!

Hear, hear.

Maestro, it is true that a lot of

singers my age are on the decline,

but I seem to just get

better and better.

(Carlo) I know.

It's hard to believe, isn't it?

Well, I am so blessed.

There is no one quite like you.

Onwards!

I thought you were off score.

- Did you enjoy the class?

- Very much so.

- Yes, she's remarkable, isn't she?

- She is.

I thought you played very nicely.

Thank you.

Good. Same time tomorrow, then.

- Yes.

- Yeah.

- Goodbye.

- Bye.

(stifled laugh)

(clears throat)

(stifled laugh)

(laughs out loud)

- Oh!

- Oh, sorry.

Excuse me.

(whoops)

(Florence sings "Biassy" in Russian)

- Morning.

- Morning, Mr Bayfield.

Find a breath, Florence.

(bellows out of tune)

(speaks Russian)

- Afternoon, Mr Bayfield.

- (Florence sings coloratura)

(Carlo) Good.

(Florence sings coloratura)

- Appoggio.

- (sings coloratura)

- Lean into it.

- (sings coloratura)

Expand your diaphragm, Florence.

(continues singing coloratura)

Breathe. Breathe, Florence.

Good.

Good.

- (sings sustained high note)

- Good.

Faint melodies bring back old days

Soar like a bird.

Faintly the old music box plays

Wonderful.

(Florence sings coloratura)

(continues singing)

(squeaks)

One word. Authenticity.

Maestro, do you think

I'm ready... for a concert?

You'll never be more ready.

You have been absent from the stage

for far too long, Bunny.

Mr McMoon? Do you think I'm ready?

Sure.

And perhaps I shall perform a monologue.

Or not. Or not.

I shall start to make arrangements.

Obviously I'll do my utmost

to attend the concert,

but I'll be away in Florida

at some point.

Oh, right. When?

Let me know when you've fixed a date.

One other thing.

Since I've been working so intensively

with Florence,

I've rather neglected my other students.

It might be best

if we were discreet about these classes.

I'd be mortified if Madam Florence

become the focus of any envy.

Well, thank you so very, very much.

Oh, she spoils me.

But then she spoils us all.

Doesn't she?

- Enjoy Florida.

- I will.

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