Grand Piano Page #4

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- Wait!

Wait. I have an idea.

- Is there a problem?

- It's fine, I'll be right back, I promise.

Back him up.

Can you hear me?

Where the hell are you?

Are you speaking with

me or to the kid?

- Go straight to his dressing room.

- What?

Go to his dressing room and

don't let him out of your sight.

On my way.

I love your dress. You're shiny.

Emma? Over here.

Excuse me. Thank you.

I hope you're enjoying it.

Emma, a picture of

you and me, please.

Do you have him?

Don't tell me you've lost him.

No. I've got him.

- Careful. Emma's leaving the theater.

- And?

- Follow her.

- I can't be in two places at once.

So, what do you want me to do?

Go for her.

"Go for her."

Your wish is my command... A**hole.

Mrs. Selznick! Mrs. Selznick...

Go ask her.

Can I take a picture with you?

Ladies and gentlemen,

please do make sure your

cell phones are on silent.

Ladies and gentlemen, please

do make sure your cell phones

are on silent.

Honey?

Emma!

I hope we're not interrupting,

Mr. Selznick. She insisted.

- I don't mean to be a problem.

- Oh, no.

Not every day I've got two

celebrities to take care of.

He's such a lifesaver for

bringing me down here.

She's something.

I just wanted to come and say

what a great job you're doing.

Really, you're playing

so beautifully.

Ladies and gentlemen...

We should go.

We should probably leave you alone.

I love you, honey.

See you on-stage, Mr. Selznick.

Let me get that for you.

...tonight's performance

will resume in five minutes.

We kindly ask you to make your way

back to your seats at this time.

Thank you so much.

That was close.

You're welcome.

Anyway, it's going to sh*t.

Calm down. That's what they always

say during any creative endeavor:

it's all going to sh*t.

All the people of note.

Look, I'm tired of the

"people of note" crap.

- You want to know what I think?

- Enlighten me, please.

- Hello?

- Yes?

- Are you even there, man?

- I'm listening, avidly.

What I'm saying is you

could've made this easy.

Blackmail the movers. Have

them take a detour somewhere

and have the piano all to yourself.

But no, instead we got a

night of f***ing Goodereks.

And what would you have suggested,

kidnap the wonder-boy and drag him to

a warehouse with a gun to his head?

No, not necessarily. I mean...

Or build a robot that can play "La

Cinquette" like Rockafire Explosion?

Your ideas are brilliant.

Keep 'em coming.

Look, man, all I'm saying is...

Nobody in his right mind would try

pulling off a heist like this.

That's what you're saying,

am I right?

Because...

that is how you make history.

That's how you get into the record books.

Four bars of "La Cinquette", you won't

have to answer to anybody ever again.

Just do your job!

Were you eavesdropping, Tom?

Fair enough.

Tell me something. What did

Patrick love more than anything?

His body of work?

His body of work, yeah, that's funny.

Certainly not his family.

- But you're missing something.

- What do you mean?

How many keys does

Patrick's piano have?

What?

Answer the question.

- Ninety-seven.

- Wrong.

No, it's right.

Full eight octaves, seven white

keys and five black keys.

Plus the extra lower keys.

It's ninety-seven.

You're missing a key. And you know

what happens when you miss a key.

- I know I'm right. Do the math.

- I did.

I know that piano better than

anyone who's ever played it.

The last four bars of "The

Unplayable Piece", that's your key.

- Who the hell are you?

- No-one compared to you and Patrick.

The only thing Emma would find more

boring than your music is what I do.

It's not the Berlin

Philharmonic, but it's a job.

Say an old man sends a fortune

to a Swiss bank, stashes it

in a safe and hides a key somewhere

only he could ever access.

The kind of lock that only someone

with his skills could ever open.

I helped Patrick build that lock

and those fingers of yours

are going to get it open.

Now's when you ask me: "How much?"

- I don't care.

- You sure?

Aren't you curious as to

the price of your life?

How much money justifies all this?

Nothing.

I wouldn't do what you're doing

for all the money in the world.

Stravinsky beat his own

children, Mozart was a drunk,

but you're better than them.

Is that it?

No, I don't care.

It wouldn't matter.

I think the mark of a

great artist is curiosity.

You're striking me as a mediocre artist.

Don't you know everybody has a price?

- What's yours?

- Imagine it.

Imagine a value.

- Now double it.

- I can't.

Exactly. You can't, because

you don't have imagination.

Because you make your living

playing stuff other people write.

That's what you're good at.

That's your talent.

Leave the imagination to the

real authors, the real artists.

You're just a petty thief.

And you're just a puppet.

A genius puppet, but just a puppet.

Every time you take that stage,

you know it too.

You have a great gift, Tom.

But I've got a vision.

So do as you're told.

Play "La Cinquette".

- And don't freeze this time.

- Go to hell.

Excuse me?

Why would you let me go?

Tom...

Don't make me upset.

You know where that leads.

I see you, you son of a b*tch.

You see what?

Tom, what did you say?

I said...

I'll play it.

Thank you so much.

Take the front end

of the piece easy.

Don't tire your fingers.

Save it just for the last four bars.

And now, to cap off the evening,

I'm going to yield the stage

to Mr. Selznick...

Not one wrong note.

- ...who will play...

- Now. Interrupt him.

- ...a solo piece...

- Do it!

- ...that Patrick Godureaux dearly loved.

- Do it now!

- Ladies and gentlemen, "The Tempest".

- No!

"La Cinquette".

Excuse me.

Would you please repeat that?

I'm playing "La Cinquette".

The Unplayable Piece.

- Did you know?

- I had no idea.

played by his greatest pupil

as a surprise change

to the program.

Ladies and gentlemen,

history in the making.

Tom Selznick plays "La Cinquette".

Don't disappoint me, Tom.

I won't disappoint my audience.

Tom, you hear me?

Tom?

You're playing beautifully, Tom.

You're playing great.

But you need to ease up, Tom.

You hear me? Ease up.

You're going to tire

out your fingers.

Careful, Tom. Don't push the tempo,

make sure you hit

those last four bars.

Tom, if you don't ease up,

you're going to freeze it.

You're going to burn out.

You hear me talking to you,

you piece of sh*t?

If you don't ease up, you're going to find

bits of your wife's skull in box seat five.

Shut the f*** up!

Tom, what did you do?

You sniveling little piece of sh*t.

You think this is some kind of a game?

I'll rip your throat out, goddamn it.

You sniveling little piece of sh*t!

Agh!

Are you listening to me, Tom?

You knew that was the

wrong note. You knew it!

Yes. But the audience didn't.

What the hell do you mean?

They never do.

Sit back down and play it again.

Play the last four bars again,

play them right,

or I swear to God, you'll be finding bits

of your wife's skull in box seat five.

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