Florence Foster Jenkins Page #2

Do show him in, Kitty, please.

- (Kitty) Please come in.

- Thank you so much.

Arturo. What a wonderful surprise.

You don't mind me visiting unannounced?

Oh, no. La mia casa la tua casa.

Ah.

- I have a little gift.

- Oh.

My recording of the Bell Song

with Lily Pons.

Oh, Arturo, how very thoughtful of you.

Thank you.

You know, we are so looking forward

to that concert.

- Are the preparations going well?

- Very well.

Though there are some financial matters

that remain... problematico.

Hmm.

Madam Florence, without your help,

there will be no concert.

How much did he want?

A thousand. But he gave me a record.

( "The Bell Song" from "Lakm")

( Lily Pons sings "The Bell Song"

in French)

Filles des Parias

Elle court sur la mousse

Et ne se souvient pas

Le long des lauriers roses

Rvant de douces choses

(sings coloratura)

Elle passe sans bruit

Et riant a la nuit

(sings coloratura)

(audience) Bravo! Bravo!

I haven't heard a voice that good

since Caruso.

- Extraordinary little thing, isn't she?

- Hmm.

Can you imagine

what that must feel like?

To hold nearly 3,000 people

in the cup of your hand.

- Hmm.

- To share such profound communion.

Hmm.

Did you see Carlo Edwards from the Met?

- No.

- Well, he was seated to our right.

I gather he's coaching again.

Oh, is he now, Bunny?

I would like to take

some more lessons with him.

Then I shall phone him

first thing in the morning.

- I shall need a pianist.

- Yes.

Someone young. Someone... with passion.

( Liszt:
"Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2"

played aggressively)

- Oh, my hat.

- Not passionate enough?

He's raping my ears.

Make him stop, make him stop.

Thank you!

Thank you very much, Mr Zeigler.

Thank you, Mr Zeigler! Thank you!

Very good. We'll... We'll be in touch.

Thank you again.

Gentlemen, the chairs are not

for practical use. You have been told.

- Cosm McMoon?

- That's me, sir.

Come.

Sorry.

- What should I play?

- Well, I really don't mind.

As long as it's not too loud.

( Saint-Sans:
"The Swan")

- What loveliness.

- Hmm.

What is he playing?

Some Saint-Sans bullshit.

- Yeah.

- (sniggering)

You know...

You know, when I was...

when I was 16 years old,

my father told me that if I didn't

give up music and marry a dull banker,

he'd cut me off.

(both laugh)

That's true.

Sorry. It's OK, continue, Mr McMoon.

(resumes playing)

Course, he didn't understand musicians.

We'd rather go without bread

than Mozart, wouldn't we?

It's not even a choice for us.

Course, he did cut me off,

but I got myself

a little apartment in Philly

and I made a living

teaching piano to children.

And we'd play The Swan and...

That was my favourite.

Wow. Great story.

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