The Music of Silence Page #4

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And stop messing about.

And give me your hand.

Don't smudge it, I haven't

washed my hand in days.

I know.

- What do you think I should say to her?

- I don't know.

Didn't you tell her you'd call her

to talk some more nonsense?

Just say the first thing

that comes into your head.

It's bound to be nonsense. Here you go.

- Do you want me to leave you alone?

- No.

[line ringing]

-[woman on phone] Workshop!

- Workshop?

[woman on phone] Yes, may I help you?

She gave me the wrong number.

Yeah, girls do that, usually when

they don't want to see you again.

I'm giving up on women.

[sings piano bar song]

Amos?

Elena.

- I'm so happy to see you again.

- Me too.

- Can I ask you something?

- Of course.

Why did you give me the

wrong number when we met?

I gave the right number,

but you never called!

I did call you, but it turned

out to be some kind of shop.

Well, I'm not going to give

you my home number, am I?

I gave you the number of

my sister's workplace.

- They didn't tell me you'd called.

- I didn't leave a message.

Why your sister?

She makes jewelry,

and when I leave school

I'm going to work with her.

I'll probably never get to university,

so meanwhile, I'm

going to learn a trade.

When someone says "meanwhile"

it usually means they do a thing

while waiting for something

else to come along.

Goodness, you're so precise!

You give such meaning

to every word you hear.

OK, perhaps you're right.

I am waiting for something,

even if I don't know yet what it is.

I thought you'd never looked

for me, but you did call me.

Of course, but then I thought,

"What a fool I am, I thought

she liked me, and instead..."

Instead... I liked you a lot.

And I liked you more than a lot.

[singing "E lucevan le stelle"]

Bravo!

Bravo!

Amos... this is Signor Vanini,

a famous opera critic, who writes on

music for the most prestigious magazines.

Huh? I told him how popular you were

and I asked him if he would

come here and listen to you

to give us his opinion.

lam honored, Signor Vanini.

What can I say Mister

Bardi? Congratulations.

I beg you to tell me the truth.

I must tell you what I think?

I'm not sure if I can.

Please.

Well... [clears throat]

I do not believe

that you have even the

smallest amount of talent

for singing opera, even in the

lowest category of the repertoire.

Your voice lacks extension, power, color

and just about everything else.

Thank you for your frankness.

Sadly, you are telling

me what I already know.

Excuse me, but I have

to go back to work.

Well, if we are being

frank with one another,

let me ask you a question:

how can this young man with his problem

expect to appear on stage?

He cannot see the orchestra,

the scenery, or the conductor.

- Do you know what I think, Signor Vanini?

- What?

You don't know anything about singing.

-[chuckles]

- You're envious and ignorant.

My nephew has a great voice.

[horse whinnies]

[Elena] You seem sad today.

[Amos] No.

You're not really happy.

I can feel it, you're pretending.

- Sometimes I think I bore you.

- You never bore me.

In fact, what I like about you is

you never say useless things.

I like that you've never asked me

how I know if you're beautiful

or how I imagine you.

I like being a little mysterious.

You don't really know how I look like

and that makes me feel

more sure of myself.

- I know exactly what you look like.

- No, no, you don't!

How can you?

I feel the air rushing into your

lungs when you are excited,

the flutter of your eyelids

when you are amazed.

And when you bite your lip...

Just here...

...on one side only.

Nobody has ever seen these things in me.

These are not things

you see with your eyes.

You realized I was sad.

What were you thinking about?

I want to change my life

to become a serious person, to

graduate as soon as possible.

A serious person maybe doesn't sing in a

piano bar all night surrounded by girls.

As soon as I become a lawyer,

I will quit being a pianist.

But I can't at the moment, I don't

want to have to rely on my parents.

But you won't have to worry.

You know something?

I think I've found the thing that

I've been waiting for all my life.

Step.

I wanted to fix it up

for when you'd settled down

with a proper job and a wife.

It'll be fine, Dad.

Why do you always have to

do things your own way, son?

I won't let you down. I'll do it my

own way, but I won't let you down.

So... You want me to go?

Amos!

It's been a while.

Ettore, thank you for coming.

So...

How many exams have you missed?

All of them.

We have a mountain in front of us,

so let's start climbing.

"...defines the relationship of

different entities within a state.

Namely, the executive,

the legislature..."

But this girl, no.

Do you get to wear one of those togas?

Of course. It's the only

reason I wanted to graduate.

[applause]

GRADUATION PARTY, JUNE 1984

Congrats, my son.

I've finished tuning the piano.

- Finished?

- Yeah.

Sorry, I was asleep.

Between being in court all day

and half the evenings

playing in this joint

I don't get much sleep.

You want to try it?

Yeah.

[Playing tune]

Permit me, but I've heard you sing.

I just wanted to tell you that

you have a talent, a rare talent.

I saw you a couple of

years ago with my wife.

Thank you.

Why are you still singing in this dump?

You should be singing opera.

I lost my voice a few years ago,

and it never really came back.

And now it is such a strain

to find the notes it kills me.

I tell you, your voice is beautiful

but it needs taking care

of. You're ruining it.

Really?

If you don't believe me,

I know a great singing maestro.

He works with all the great singers,

Franco Corelli, for instance.

Franco Corelli? I've

tuned his piano for years.

His name is Maestro Suarez lnfiesta.

He's Spanish, but he lives near here.

I'll give you an

introduction, if you want.

[singing "E Lucevan Le Stelle"]

Are you ready to make music...

your only reason to live?

Only if you are prepared

to make great sacrifices,

will I consent to give you lessons,

and will you become a great tenor.

Yes, but what should I do?

What sort of life do you lead, my boy?

What do you mean, maestro?

What time do you get up in the morning?

Well, it depends on

what time I go to bed.

No, no, no.

Bed 10:
00pm sharp.

Up 7:
00am precisely.

But I have to work.

Do you work in the evenings?

- I play in a piano bar.

-[scoffs]

This very evening will

be your last in that bar.

- Do you drink?

- My father makes great wine.

Good, you will bring me a bottle. Yeah.

- Please, don't tell me that you smoke.

- No, no!

Good, good, at least you

are doing something right.

How many hours a day do you

dedicate to exercising your voice?

At the moment, almost none.

But from tomorrow onwards

I'll dedicate a lot of hours.

No, wrong, wrong, no. Until you have

learned to use your voice properly,

do not sing, do not even

practice. Nothing. Zero!

How much do you talk?

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