la, la, la, la, la, la
- It's too low for me.
- You're a tenor? You want to start here?
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Louder, please.
I'm so nervous.
- I'm not singing.
- But you have to.
- But I came to dance.
- You have to sing too.
- And act, and play an instrument.
- All three?
It says "performing arts. "
- You don't have to do everything.
- Sure as shit helps, baby.
- Thank you. Next group, please. Hurry.
Oh, I like your nose ring.
- I'm into culture.
- Does that hurt, or is that ethnic?
Music, please, Mrs. Snell.
Please pay attention.
We have a lot to do today.
- I hate my legs.
Yeah. Me too.
- I've tried every diet in the whole world.
- Really? Me too.
But you can't help your glands.
I'm sorry! I'm just so nervous.
Relax! Come on, use your body.
- Careful. That's 7000 worth of machine.
Dollars or pounds?
- Don't touch the rotary pots.
- What pots?
I got it set on sawtooth.
Why can't he play piccolo? Something
sensible. Or the accordion, like Papa did.
Same reason you drive a checker and
not a Roman chariot. It's progress.
My son's head is into the future.
And Papa could never play the accordion.
- Do you think you're talented?
- You swine! You coward! You cad!
You dare judge me in my misfortitude?
You dare to ask me the question
who is the father of my child?
- You! You! I point to you, Nigel!
Next, please.
The next group of musicians can
go to the fifth floor now, please.
- Name?
- Excuse me, miss.
You don't need his name. He's not here
for the audition. He's my partner.
- 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 I'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?
- 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 Inferno.
- 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.
- Concentrate.
Just sing to Michael...
...and don't