do it for me.
She wants my father to think she cares.
Besides, she loves shopping.
She gets multiple orgasm
every time she buys something.
Sounds great. I think I like her.
You can have her.
- Where's all the sweat, Lisa?
- I'm working on it.
You're not working on it hard enough.
Get rid of the gum.
Watch me.
Lift the bow off the string, Martelli.
Mozart wouldn't do this today.
- Do what?
- This bowing business.
He'd plug his keyboard into an amp...
...and he'd have string quartets
coming out of his fingers.
And who would play all these
science-fiction symphonies?
- He would.
- All by himself?
He'd overdub and mix, of course.
He wouldn't make the same old noise.
- Noise?
- He'd sound electric.
He'd have spacier strings and horns
and computerized bassoons.
- One man is not an orchestra.
- Who needs orchestras?
You can do it all with a keyboard,
an amp and enough power.
You're going to play all by yourself?
You don't need anybody else.
That's not music, Martelli.
That's masturbation.
See, I'm not naturally graceful.
Grace doesn't run in our family.
It's our genes. I've had to work
so hard to come this far.
- God, I've been at it since I was 4.
- Me too.
I started out with tap and stuff.
Then my mom kept buying me pretty
ballet tutus, and I got hooked on it.
Less lip, Monroe! More sweat!
- She's just a bitch.
- She hates me.
This is a dance class, Lisa,
not the Charles Atlas plan.
- Shut your mouth.
- Where are your tights?
I told you I got them.
I just forgot them.
What's he talking about?
Tights. He won't wear them.
Look, Leroy, I told you, if you don't have
tights, you don't dance. Now go!
Oh, I love your accent.
What did you say?
I dig his black ass.
- It's taken, Goldilocks.
- Don't count on it.
A painful memory.
What does he mean by
a painful memory?
I don't know. I can't find
a painful memory.
I know I have them.
I mean, my pain's as good
as anybody else's.
I have lots of them. You can borrow
one of mine if you want.
Like, I used to wet my bed. There, that
was painful. You can have that memory.
No, thank you.
Then there was the last time my father
packed his bags and left us.
That really was painful.
Or the first time my mother flew to L.A.
and didn't come back for six weeks.
Or the first time I fell in love.
Where'd that come from?
I'll buy you a cup of coffee.
You're gonna tell everybody that?
It's the most painful memory
I can think of.
He didn't say the most painful.
He just said painful.
- We're supposed to expose ourselves.
- Imagine what Ralph Garci will say.
A pie in the face comes with the job.
That's what my mom says. She knows.
I don't get it.
A real artist must never be afraid of
what other people will say about him.
It was a time when I realized
something about myself.
- Maybe you didn't realize it right.
- What do you mean?
Well, I mean, everybody falls in love
with their analyst.
There's a word for that, isn't there?
Homosexual.
That's my music.
That lunatic stole my tape.
Wow, that's me.
That's my son's music!
My son Bruno. Bruno Martelli!
He wrote the music.
Today, 46th Street...
...tomorrow, Madison Square Garden.
- Papa, what are you doing?
- Bruno!
You've lost your mind. You're crazy.
Those tapes aren't ready.
Look at the people.
They don't know it's not ready.
Look at it, they like it!
Bruno, they like it! Bruno!
- Hey, yo!
- Huh?
Move your fucking parade!
What do you think this is, 5th Avenue?
Back it up!
I'll get your ass, buddy!
Who do you think you are?
You're next, you hear me?
Get away from there.
What are you doing?
How do you like that?
Pick that up, you son of a bitch!
I thought I was just
going through a stage.
That's what everyone told me.
And it never
worried me when I was 10.
Except they told me the same thing
at 12 and 14.
So finally, my analyst
leveled with me.
He said it was probably a life choice.
It's funny.
"Gay" used to mean
such a happy