Phantom Of The Paradise Page #2

You were gonna look at it.

You're auditioning girls for my work.

I'm Winslow Leach! I wrote it!

Where are you taking me?

Telephone.

That's him.

-What are you doing?

-Nothing.

-Are you some kind of pervert?

-No, sir. I'm...

-I'm Winslow Leach, the composer.

-What are you doing outside Swanage?

Listen, officers, you gotta help me.

Mr. Swan's got my music.

He pretends he doesn't know me.

He had me thrown out and beaten up.

-He didn't want to buy what you had.

-He said nothing about buying.

Jack, what's that he got in his purse?

I don't know, Joe. Take a look.

-I think I will.

-Mr. Swan said he had it on him.

What do you know?

Smack, Jack.

-You know the penalty for pushing?

-Life!

But I'm innocent!

Swan stole my music and framed me!

Welcome to Sing Sing.

We're very fortunate to be included

in the Dental Health Research Program.

This is a volunteer program

funded by the Swan Foundation.

You are all volunteers.

All your teeth will be pulled.

Teeth are a source of infection.

It pays to be on the safe side.

Sir?

Pardon me. I'm not a volunteer.

I'm innocent. I don't want you

to take my teeth out.

How many men here are innocent?

Raise your hands.

All innocent.

Good morning, everyone.

Swan can deposit

another golden disk in Fort Knox.

The Juicy Fruits on the Death Label

has taken the charts by storm.

Friday night, you can see them

at the grand opening of the Paradise.

Swan's rock palace...

...is scheduled to open at last

with this dynamite sound.

So let's hear it again. The

Juicy Fruits singing Swan's Faust.

Get away from the record press.

-Let's move this ladder now.

-What's that?

I shove the tire in his mouth.

Then he really gets mad

at me, you know?

This is the last time

we go through it. See Swan?

He's listening and watching,

so don't make me look bad again.

All right, let's get going here,

will you, please?

Let's get it going over here.

Get the car over there.

All right, girls.

Just a second, Linda.

You got a very nice body.

We want to see some skin.

-It's cold. It's just a rehearsal.

-You're not paid to be cold.

-Don't touch me.

-You wanna get paid?

-Yeah, I wanna get paid.

-Get back on the car.

Come on, let's move it out of here.

We've gotta get some thin girls here.

-Where are you going?

-I gotta get out of here.

-What sign are you?

-Leo.

You're okay. I gotta get out of here.

-Come on, I wanna show you something.

-I swear to God.

Do you see Swan up there?

He doesn't show it, but he's thinking:

"Why isn't Harold in the car?"

Do you really want me to tell him

that it's not in the stars for you?

I don't feel good.

You'll feel worse

if you don't do what I say.

-I hear this ticking.

-Maybe something's loose up there.

-There's something weird here.

-Take one of these.

-I can't take pills...

-Take the pills, swallow. Feel better?

-Yeah, I feel better.

-No more ticking?

Get out there. All right.

Come on, get this car out.

Girls, I want big smiles now.

Look at the audience. That's it.

Big smiles. Sing the song.

Winslow, good to see you.

I've been looking for you everywhere.

Killing me won't help you.

My God, you're horrible.

Don't rush off.

Look at yourself.

Look at yourself!

What's that horrible sound?

Can't you talk?

Look around you, Winslow.

You've destroyed your face,

your voice.

Now you're trying to destroy

the Paradise. Haven't we had enough?

I can give you the power to create.

I'll make you somebody.

We'll have to start over,

only this time working together.

The time for your sound is now.

People will want to hear your music.

Tomorrow, I'll put a whole new group

together who'll do your songs.

Come to the auditions.

You'll see for yourself. Trust me!

Trust me.

Next!

-What's your name, sweetheart?

-Phoenix.

-Let's see what you got.

-Do I get to sing this time?

-You mean you're really a singer?

-Yes, I'm a singer.

Try to forget it. We're not looking for

singers. We're looking for screamers.

I'm not a screamer. I'm a singer.

Phoenix.

Swan here.

-I want you to answer a question.

-Yes?

What would you give me to sing?

Anything you wanted.

Anything?

Would you give me your voice?

Try me.

She's good...

...isn't she?

Then let's talk.

Filters.

Dolbys.

Perfect.

-How's that? Try it.

-Phoenix.

Try it again.

And again.

At least you can talk. Plug yourself

into the console to sing.

-You really think she's that good?

-Too good for you.

I'll hire her anyway.

She could be my voice now.

Could she? Really?

Stop terrorizing the Paradise

and rewrite your cantata...

...for Phoenix. We'll both win.

You get your cantata sung by

the right singer, I open Paradise.

We can't waste time.

Lock yourself up in here and write.

-I could write for her.

-It'll be performed here live.

-Phoenix will star.

-My cantata. For her.

I'll get fantastic musicians.

The hall has...

I don't trust you.

You ruined my music before.

Forget about the Juicy Fruits.

Who wants nostalgia anymore?

-I don't trust you.

-No need. Here's a contract.

Everything I've said

and more is in it.

-I'll read it.

-At your leisure.

"The party of the first part

gives the party of the second part...

...full power to do with him at their

pleasure, to rule, send, fetch...

...or carry him or his, be it

either body, soul, flesh or blood."

-What does that mean?

-That's a transportation clause.

"All articles...

...which are excluded

shall be deemed included."

-What does that mean?

-That's a clause to protect you.

Anyway, what difference does it make?

What choice do you have?

I'll rewrite my cantata,

but you'd best play what I write.

Ink isn't worth anything

to me, Winslow.

Now sign.

Excellent.

And now we're in business together.

Forever.

I'll rewrite my cantata,

but you'd best play what I write.

Ink isn't worth anything

to me, Winslow.

Now sign.

Excellent.

And now we're in business together.

Forever.

Tasty, Winslow, tasty.

-But I thought you liked her, boss.

-I do. She's perfect.

But you know how I abhor perfection

in anyone but myself.

Then Phoenix is out?

No, not out. Just a backup singer.

My cantata needs something

really heavy.

No, no.

Wrong again.

Pretty, but no.

No.

There's something here like...

-How come we don't get to take photos?

-They have exclusive rights to him.

-Where's he coming in from?

-Transylvania. Swan will go anywhere...

Remember, no pictures of Swan.

Gentlemen, I want to tell you

of our latest work. An opera.

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