The Red Shoes Page #4

Well, I couldn't rewrite that bit,

could I?

- Why not?

- You didn't blue-pencil it.

Horrors like that don't need to be blue-penciled.

They speak for themselves.

Well, as a matter of fact,

I did have some ideas about that.

Where are they, my dear fellow?

We need a score.

If you'll allow me.

Well, it's the church scene.

Let's get rid

of this sentimental hymn tune...

and take a fouesquare chorale.

Something Iike this.

Then, I thought, all the way through,

we might have a church bell coming in.

All of a sudden, the strings -

[ Humming ]

Then as the priest appeaes,

it's taken up with the brass.

Bum, bum

Bum-bum-bum

Bum

Shall I play you

"The Dance of the Red Shoes"?

Thank you, Mr. Craster.

Thank you.

This time, I want you

to change everything.

I want a new score.

There you are, Mr. Lermontov.

And where's the orchestration?

- When do you want it?

- Yesterday.

You said you wanted to work, didn't you?

Then go home and work.

I don't want to see your face anywhere

until you've finished it.

You won't!

[ Band:
Dance ]

[ Continues ]

Why aren't you in bed?

- Oh, you gave me quite a fright.

- I meant to.

Why aren't you in bed?

I was ordered to, but I was

much too excited to sleep.

- So here I am.

- Are you? I haven't seen you.

- Thank you.

- By the way, you haven't seen me either.

Has he sent you to bed too?

No, I'm just working on the score

of my new ballet - The Red Shoes.

Is that my ballet too?

Yes, I suppose it is.

[ Train Whistle Blowing ]

[ Train Approaching ]

I wonder what it feels like

to wake up in the morning...

and find oneself famous.

You're not likely to know

if you stay here talking much longer.

So, good luck.

Good luck.

[ Whistling ]

[ Piano ]

She's putting too much into it.

Why don't you tell her, Grischa?

Mind your own business.

She has to dance with me

at the dance at the fair before this.

And the big stuff stiIl to come.

She can't dance everything full out.

She ought to know that.

How do you expect her

to know it, Ivan Ivanovitch...

if you never once dance full out yourself

before the opening night?

Here are the designs

for the costumes, Boris.

One moment.

Sit down, will you, please?

I'm so sorry, Mr. Ljubov.

Something will have to be done about the music.

She starts the pirouette

a beat too early.

The tempo's wrong.

It's too fast.

- It's the right tempo.

- Of course.

Once more!

- She'll be all right.

- [ Resumes ]

I hope so.

Still unconverted, Sergei?

Well, of course,

she's a charming girl, but -

Oh, I know nothing about her charms,

and I care less.

But I tell you, they won't wait till the end.

They'll appIaud in the middle.

- [ Laughing ] Oh, come now.

- Sergei, I'll take a bet.

Oh, enough, enough!

Miss Page, we are trying

to create something of beauty.

Might I suggest that while you continue

to wave your arms like a scarecrow...

and bend your knees

like an old cart horse...

we are unlikely to succeed!

Well, well, it's a bet.

[ Laughing ]

Come on, let me see your sketches.

The girl.

[ Laughs ]

[ Ljubov ]

Dejeuner. Rendez-vous a deux heures.

[ Speaking French ]

Monsieur Ljubov est un animal.

[ Speaking French ]

[ Sighs ]

- Do you stiIl think I can do it?

- [ Chuckles ]

WeIl, at the moment, you look as if

you are finding it a little difficult.

But when we open in two weeks' time...

I hope you'll appear to be finding

the whole thing supremeIy simple.

And don't forget,

a great impression of simplicity...

can only be achieved

by great agony of body and spirit.

- Voila.

- Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.

You don't want to ruin

your breathing, do you?

No.

And from today, I've arranged that you

shall have your lunch in my office.

Craster.

[ Men Speaking French ]

Now, will you sit

over there, please?

- [ French ]

- Merci. Mr. Craster, at the piano.

Do you usually have a musical accompaniment

to your meals, Mr. Lermontov?

No, Miss Page, I do not.

- But I'm afraid this is going to be

your fate for the next two weeks.

- [ Piano ]

Mr. Craster is going to play

The Red Shoes music for you...

at every lunch, tea and dinner

you take until we open.

I see.

Yes. In this way, you should become

quite familiar with the music.

Yes, I think I probably shaIl.

The music is all that matters.

Nothing but the music.

Huh? Mr. Craster?

- Certainly.

- Bon appetit.

- A votre service, mademoiseIle.

- Merci.

Some composers specialize

in lunchtime music, don't they?

Some.

You?

In my time.

Look, do you mind not playing that

just at the moment, please?

It's the right tempo.

Let's take the ballroom scene.

That's the most digestible

part of the score.

The ballroom's out. It's been cut.

Cut as a scene,

but it's still there in my score.

I wrote this dance for a ballroom.

Anyone who undeestands anything

about music will see a ballroom.

Even Lermontov will see a ballroom.

Even you.

And when you're lifted up

into the air by your partner...

my music will transform you.

Into what?

A flower swaying in the wind.

A cloud drifting in the sky.

A white bird flying.

Tell that to Ratov.

He would love your birds and flowers.

- You don't?

- If you were a dancer, you'd know -

Just a minute.

Nothing mattees but the music!

And it's hard enough

to get off the ground anyway...

without being a bird or a flower.

Aren't you going to imagine

anything on the fiest night?

Yes, a wall between me and the audience.

[ Resumes ]

My music will pulI you through it.

[ Loud Chord ]

[ Orchestra ]

Tia!

Miss Page, I am not a circus conductor,

and you are not a hoese.

- It's too fast.

- You would not find it too fast -

- Both of you!

- You would not find it too fast...

if you would allow the slow passage to come

to an end before you start your pirouette.

My downbeat marks a pause.

We understand it, don't we, gentlemen?

N'est-ce pas?

- You come in on the second beat.

- Impossible.

One, two. Tia, tia!

It's quite simple.

- You see this baton?

- Yes.

Well, follow it!

Oh!

[ Musicians Tuning lnstruments ]

[ Women Chattering ln French ]

[ Knock At Door ]

- Good luck.

- Good luck.

Vicky. Vicky.

Dance whatever tempo you like.

I'll follow you.

- All right, Ivan.

- [ Groans ]

- Time to go down, Craster.

- Good Iuck, Mr. Craster.

- Thank you, Mr. Lermontov.

- Nervous?

- No.

- Come on!

Do I -

What the devil have you got

to worry about? It's a fine score.

- Is it?

- A magnificent score.

I only wish I- Go on.

- [ Batons Tapping ]

- [ Audience AppIauding ]

[ Orchestra ]

[ Speaking French ]

[ Shouting In French ]

- Grischa.

- Tout est dans le chaos, Boris!

Chaos, chaos, chaos!

- Grischa.

- Oh, Boris!

Mon Dieu!

The red shoes!

- What?

- The red shoes are not there!

Monsieur Rideaut, what have you

done with the red shoes?

- Mais, Monsieur Ljubov -

- Don't waste your time. Where are they?

Are you sure you haven't

hidden them yourself?

No, no, no, no.

Yes! Fool, fool!

Monsieur Lermontov!

Miss Page est dans un etat.

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