Young Man With A Horn Page #3

Synopsis: Aimless youth Rick Martin learns he has a gift for music and falls in love with the trumpet. Legendary trumpeter Art Hazzard takes Rick under his wing and teaches him all he knows about playing. To the exclusion of anything else in life, Rick becomes a star trumpeter, but his volatile personality and desire to play jazz rather than the restricted tunes of the bands he works for lands him in trouble.
 
IMDB:
7.2
APPROVED
Year:
1950
112 min
279 Views


is right here.

- Your trumpet.

- Oh, thanks.

Can I lend you some money?

Wouldn't know what to do with it.

- You're probably broke.

- Probably.

Young man with a horn.

Crazy young man with a horn.

I'm sorry, Jo, I...

It's all right.

We'll keep in touch, huh?

Sure.

So long, Jo.

So long, Rick.

You know, that piano of mine's been out

of tune since the day I got here.

How much can an artist take?

Smoke, you'll never amount to anything.

You know that, don't you?

You coming?

Boy.

Maxie.

- Tell them to play something with pep.

- Sure. Deal me out.

Hey, professor, how about

something louder and funnier?

Mike wants something with more pep.

We're all through for the night.

We'll be leaving pretty soon.

- Hey, you hard of hearing or something?

- He told you, we're through for the night.

Maxie!

Max.

Hey, you. Trumpet player. Come here.

You're a handy guy.

Handy with the trumpet

and the fist.

He didn't have to do that.

Sit down.

Play me something snappy.

- You know "Ain't She Sweet"?

- Yeah.

Well, play it.

Don't stop. Keep playing.

What? Don't you like my beer?

No.

Try some more, you might

develop a taste for it.

Mike!

- Come on, let's have a drink.

- I'll have another beer.

- Deal me in, I feel lucky tonight.

- All right, what will it be?

Maybe I'm getting too old

for this music racket.

It's not much fun anymore, and you

can't sell it for a bag of peanuts.

Sure you won't come with me?

- Indiana's awful nice this time of year.

- You mean out to old Aunt Mary's?

Oh, stop kidding. You'd like my folks.

We got plenty of room.

No, thanks, I'd only be in the way.

I ought to go see my own folks.

I think I will, honest.

Where do they live?

Texas.

Thought you said you were

from Missouri.

I haven't any folks.

You just got one love,

that little tin baby of yours.

How you fixed for dough?

Oh, loaded. Oh, this is it.

Here.

- Oh, no, Smoke, l...

- Take it.

Well, remember, it's only a loan.

- Will you write?

- Sure.

- So long, kid.

- So long, Smoke.

Board!

See you soon, Smoke.

- Thanks for waiting.

- I wouldn't have missed it.

I'm impressed. You're better than I thought,

and I always thought you were good.

- Say, you look fine.

- You too.

- Oh, sure.

- You gonna buy me a sandwich?

I'd like to, but I'm anxious to find

Art Hazzard. You know where he's playing?

Yeah.

He's at a place called Galba's

in the Village.

You haven't heard from him

in a long time, have you?

Why?

Well, he doesn't play the way he

used to, Rick. He's been sick.

Oh, but he's better now.

Mind if I go with you?

- It'll just take me a minute to change.

- Sure.

Hello. I'd like you to meet my friend

Rick Martin. This is Louis Galba.

- Trumpet player?

- Never heard such a trumpet.

I hear lots of trumpets.

- Glad to see you anyway.

- Thank you.

Eddie, table for Miss Jordan.

- Hello, Jo.

- Hello, Phil, Bridget.

- Hello, Jo.

- Good to see you.

I see what you mean.

He was the greatest.

Hi, pops.

- Is this really you?

- Nobody else.

Well, here.

Don't smoke it all at once.

Brought it all the way from Wheeling,

West Virginia. It's a two-bit one.

Shut me up if it isn't.

- Hello, Art.

- Hello, Miss Jo.

I've been hearing some things

about you here and there.

- I hear you're pretty good now.

- Well, I haven't got a roll, that's for sure.

- I'd like to hear you.

- Sure, sometime I'd...

- Come on.

- Oh, not now, Art.

- Now is as good a time as any.

- I don't...

Back this gentleman up,

will you, boys?

- Why, sure.

- Hiya, fellas.

- It's all yours.

- What's it gonna be?

I'll think of something,

but you'll have to carry me.

- Oh, go right ahead.

- Fine.

- What do you think?

- Who is he?

- Rick Martin.

- Who's he with?

He just came in from Chicago.

He's told me about offers. I don't

know if he's made up his mind.

Boy's good. I could use him.

- I'll bring him over later to meet you.

- It's a deal.

Ladies and gentleman, this is Rick Martin.

I've known him from the time

he was a little boy.

I...

I taught him how to hold that

trumpet he just played for you.

But I didn't teach him how to play it.

Not the way he does.

That's something that you can't learn.

You've got to have it.

Oh, Rick. I just wanted to tell you

you were great tonight.

Oh, thanks. Thanks a lot.

How you live is your business, but I've been

around a long time. You know what I mean?

- No. What's the matter, Mr. Morrison?

- Why do you go to Galba's?

Don't you get enough trumpet playing here?

Well, not my kind of playing.

I pay you good money.

At Galba's, you play for free.

You're a big draw there,

just so old Hazzard keeps his job.

- That may be nice...

- Mr. Hazzard's a friend.

Okay, okay. It's just that you're

not doing yourself any good, Rick.

- Staying up all night.

- I thought you were satisfied with me.

I am, I am. I'm just telling you

for your own good.

Why bother with a bunch of...?

Wait a minute. Where are you going?

Galba's.

Violets, mister?

- Good evening.

- Hello, Louis.

There's no need to

ask about business.

It's packed like this every night.

But I got a table for you.

- Good.

- Come on, follow me, please.

This is that crazy musician

I talk about all the time.

Come on, let's sit down.

- Hi, Jo.

- Hello, Rick.

- Great.

- Thanks, Louis.

I want you to meet Amy North.

This is Rick Martin.

- Hello.

- It isn't there anymore.

- Well, what?

- The expression on your face.

Your whole mood.

When you were playing that trumpet,

you were exalted, sure of yourself.

You've undergone a startling

transition, Richard.

I'd rather call you Richard.

You don't mind?

People try to find security

in a lot of strange ways.

You've solved your problems. At least

while you're playing that trumpet.

I don't understand a word,

but I love your voice.

- It's got a rough spot in it.

- I should've warned you.

She talks like a medical book

and likes to analyze everything.

She's studying to be a psychiatrist.

Oh, well, how do I stack up?

My interest isn't purely professional.

When I meet a great talent,

I want to know him.

You don't mind, do you?

Not at all. Go on.

Tell me about jazz.

Do you think it's purely African?

I don't do much thinking

about it. I just play it.

- Lf you listen to it...

- I didn't come here to listen to it.

I came to study the people, watch

their faces. They're interesting.

Something about jazz releases inhibitions.

It's a sort of cheap,

mass-produced narcotic.

I gather you don't like jazz.

Not particularly.

I know it's supposed to

be our native art.

Cotton fields, the levees,

New Orleans and blues in the night.

Excuse me, please.

Would you do a number, please, Jo?

- I don't like to ask, but...

- All right, Louis.

If you're a singer,

they never let you talk.

Sure, knock them dead.

- Can I buy you a drink?

- No, thanks.

You don't like me, do you?

I think you're very charming, Miss North.

You can call me Amy.

I bet I could.

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Carl Foreman

Carl Foreman, CBE (July 23, 1914 – June 26, 1984) was an American screenwriter and film producer who wrote the award-winning films The Bridge on the River Kwai and High Noon among others. He was one of the screenwriters that were blacklisted in Hollywood in the 1950s because of their suspected Communist sympathy or membership in the Communist Party. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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