all, thick skin.
Now you're part of an underprivileged
minority, and you're going to suffer.
Pulled tendons, shin splints,
swollen toes, smelly tights... .
Cattle calls, the humiliation,
the rejection... .
Melodic dictation theory, keyboard
harmony, piano, piano literature...
...music history, orchestration,
conducting, symphonic band... .
-When do we have lunch?
-Lunch is at 1 1 :30. One half-hour...
-...and then you'll have everything else.
-What's everything else?
Biology, chemistry, algebra, English,
French, physics, history, et cetera.
Dance is not a way
of getting through school.
It's a way of life, plus school.
The school part is easier.
So you better like yourself a lot.
Because that's all you got to work with.
Use yourself.
Your voice, your experiences.
Wanna accumulate some experiences?
I got plenty of experiences to spare.
You know what?
I live with two chicks.
Dance is the hardest
department in the school.
Acting is the hardest
profession in the world.
Music is the hardest profession of
them all. Isn't that right, Mrs. Tossoff?
Indeed.
Okay.
No fighting. Stay in line, please.
Who's next?
Excuse me.
-I'll be doing my scene Thursday... .
-I'll be right back.
Get out of my seat!
-Hi.
-Hi. That's too wild for me.
-I'm in your acting class.
-I know.
Montgomery MacNeil.
-Doris Finsecker.
-Hi. Wanna sit down?
All right. Is your mother really
Marsha MacNeil, the actress?
-That's right.
-She does wonderful work.
-Have you seen her?
-But I've heard.
-I didn't know she lived in New York.
-She doesn't. Officially, she does...
...but she's been on the road forever.
She gets paid to stay in hotels...
...but she stays with friends. Sends her
per diems home to me and Dr. Golden.
-Is that your stepfather?
-My analyst.
What's wrong with you?
It's pretty technical, really.
I have problems.
-What kind of problems?
-With women.
Fine. Swaying with a nice humming
sound, please. And:
Let the arms go.
Good, good, good.
And chew.
Faster.
Speed.
Tongues out.
Down.
Side. Side.
And round, round.
Come on.
More energy!
Do it together, please.
Keep moving.
Much better.
Much, much better now.
Reach for the jetй!
And:
Impulse to impulse.
Relax.
Relax.
Sense the floor against your bodies.
Feel it against
the backs of your legs.
Your arms.
Your shoulders.
Let your senses remember...
...this feeling of heaviness.
Relax and breathe.
Relax and breathe.
All right, let's go. Thank you.
Don't be late. Come on. Don't be late.
-Should you be on this floor?
-I have a note.
-Miss Berg wants a tambourine.
-Fine.
Excuse me? Excuse me?
You speak English?
-Bruno Martelli?
-He's across the hall.
Thanks.
-Hi.
-Hi.
-What kind of music notes are those?
-Laser beams.
-It's a requiem for Buck Rogers.
-Great.
-You ever thought of doing real music?
-This is my music.
-I mean a band.
-I don't like bands. They crowd me.
-I prefer my basement, no people.
-There's money though, in summer trade.
-If we get together in time.
-I'm really not interested.
There's tea dances and parties,
weddings and bar mitzvahs.
Those things are steady. People always
get married and grow up.
-I don't need the hassle.
-I'll take care of everything...
...just like a regular business manager.
I'll look after the bookings, travel,
costume designs, for 1 0% off the top.
Then a straight split
of the performing cut.
-What costume designs?
-Nothing fancy, just sequins and stuff.
See-through for me, maybe low-cut.
We gotta give them visuals.
The sound might be wicked, but when
you get down to it, tits book bands.
-I think I'll stay in my basement.
-Bruno, this is our chance.
-Don't you want success?
-Sure. I don't think our tits are up to it.
Why?
Oh, why?
God will punish you,
Yuri Yajeyopeyonoff.
What crime is this unborn
child guilty of...
...that it should not drink of
the milk of paradise?
You warned me, Elena.
Not one ruble have I lost, not one.