- What school's he from?
- He ain't into school.
He's just helping me out with my
dancing. But it's me who's auditioning.
Mulholland, Shirley. I'm all fixed up.
I filled in all your papers and all.
He doesn't go upstairs
without filling in his name.
Leroy's his name, but I'm auditioning.
Shirley Mulholland. That's two L's.
- And don't ask him to do no writing.
- Doesn't he talk, even?
He ain't into conversation
until you get to know him.
- Leroy what?
- Leroy Johnson. Can we go up now?
He's not going up
until he checks his knife.
We ain't staying long enough for
no trouble. He's just helping a friend.
He's not helping out anyone
unless he checks his knife.
This is the High School for Performing
Arts. We don't cut each other up here.
- You want it?
- I want it.
- You sure you want it?
- Yeah, I'm sure.
- Promise you won't steal it, now?
- I promise.
- Thanks, ma'am.
- Name?
Don't worry, baby. I got lots of knives.
- What are you going to do for us?
- I was gonna sing.
- You don't have to sing, honey.
- We know our rights.
- You can't refuse her an audition.
- She's not supposed to sing her audition.
Please, excuse me, if you don't mind.
Honey, you don't have to sing for us...
- ...because this is the drama department.
- When she sings, it is drama.
- What's your name, honey?
- Finsecker.
Doris Finsecker.
- Hi.
- How do you do?
- What's your name?
- Ralph Garci.
- Who was your teacher?
- Well, my father taught me.
He's doing work for the government.
I'm not supposed to talk about it...
...but my father played some of the
most beautiful symphonies...
- ...in the whole world once.
- What did he play?
Trombones.
And French horns.
English horns.
- Saxophones.
- Anything else?
Yeah.
- Bongos, maracas, that sort of stuff.
- What did he teach you?
Why don't you
try the dance department.
- Why do you want to go to school here?
- Should I tell him?
Yeah, tell him.
We can't afford a professional
children's school.
Okay. If you want to sing, go ahead.
Then we'll look at your acting.
I'm a little nervous.
Don't be shy, Sheila. Come over here.
What are you going to do?
- I'm doing The Towering lnferno.
- What?
- You know, the movie?
- Oh.
All right, I'm playing O.J. Simpson.
I'm in this building.
There's fire all around, right?
So I go to the elevator.
Think of it as a concentration exercise.
Just sing to Michael...
- ...and don't worry about anybody else.
- I don't think I can. I can't just stare.
He won't mind.
- Waiting for the elevator.
- Press the button, Doris.
Her brother Harvey.
Doesn't come, so now I'm getting mad.
Finally it comes, so I get in.
Okay, and there's people all around.
And they're looking right at me.
Yeah, my father taught me. I'm not
supposed to talk about him right now.
He's doing a little bit of work
for the government, but...
My father is very, very famous.
He danced with the Rockettes.
Sure. Would you begin, please?
- I'll be doing "Swanee River" for you.
- Okay.
And...
Hon? "Swanee River," please.
Hit it.
Doris, what would you do
if you don't make it?
We'll make it.
Next, please.
But I that am not shaped
for sportive tricks...
...nor made to court
an amorous looking glass...
...I that am-- Cheated of--
Oh, I'm sorry.
Why don't you try
the drama department.
If again "it was not well cut,"
he'd answer, I spake not true:
This is called the Reply Churlish.
Nobody talks about it,
but there's a quota system.
Your chances are better if you're black,
Puerto Rican or everything, like me.
- I am Puerto Rican.
- Not on your paper you ain't, Garci.
- Your daddy doing government work.
- That's the truth.
And he left you his tap shoes, right?
Does he work for Pepsi-Cola too?
Be careful.
- To the left. Left.
- Come the other way.
All right.
Easy, now. Straight back, Bruno?
- Where do you want this at?
- Far corner.
How do you do?
Okay. Fine.
Great. Look, I'll do that. You just go
and