Mo' Better Blues

25.000

U-N-l-V-E-R-S-A-L.

Universal. Y'all been large for years.|Yo, Spike, start the movie, G.

Flavor Flav, you've done it again.

He's gotta come outside.

Every time we waste our time here,|we always missin' games.

Yo, Bleek!

Yo, Bleek!

- You coming out to play?|- You're wasting time on him.

l know, man. Yo, Bleek!

We're going to miss the game!

Boys! Boys!

Boys, please be quiet!

Sorry, Mrs Gilliam, we wanted to know|if Bleek can come out.

l understand that,|but this noise has got to stop.

- Psst!|- Oh, man!

Bleek.

- Bleek!

l told you to tell your friends|not to come around.

Leave the boy alone.

- Oan l go outside now?|- When you've finished.

- What about then?|- We'll see.

- Let the boy be a boy, have some fun.|- He could be a bum for all you care.

Running the streets with those kids.

Almost wlthln walklng dlstance|of Forbes Fleld.

He ls just 21 years old.

That child's going to drive me|up the wall. Go tell them to go home.

- You don't let me do nothing.|- You hear what l said?

Go tell him to go home.

Bleek!

Bleek.

Are you coming out?

Yo, Ty,|what'd l tell you about that stuff?

- Are you coming out?|- When l'm done.

- Done what?|- Finished my lesson.

- Forget him.|- We're going.

- l said l'll see you later.|- l'm glad my moms ain't like your moms.

- She lets me do whatever l want.|- Me, too.

- Come on down, you f***ing bum!|- Giant, who you cursing at?

- You!|- You're a effing bum.

- l'll see you later.|- We'll see you later, mama's boy.

- Sissy.|- Who you calling a sissy?

- You!|- You're a sissy, sissy.

When l finish my lessons,|l'll come down.

- Man, he does this every time.|- Thanks for nothing.

We'll win the game without you.

Bleek!|Get your butt out of that window.

Throw the ball, man!

Mommy,|l never get to play with my friends.

Now they callin' me a sissy.|l ain't no sissy.

- A sissy?!|- Don't pay those fools no mind.

l'm sick and tired of the trumpet.|l hate the trumpet!

All the money l paid for that horn?|You must be losing your mind.

- You better play that trumpet.|- Look...

That child will drive me up the wall.

- Don't say that.|- l can say it if l want to...

You got a lot of time|to be with your friends.

- Like when?|- l don't want you to grow up like them.

- After your lessons.|- l have to play this stupid trumpet.

- This instrument can be your friend.|- Shut up! Shut up!

- l'm not having this.|- We'll go to a game.

- l don't want to go.|- l got a game on, OK?

- Go look at it.|- You spoiled him rotten.

He's not worth a damn. Listen.|Shut up! Don't you talk back to me.

l want you to pick up the horn,|and you're going to play the scales.

Do you hear me?|And you're going to do it right now.

Boy, l think you better do|what your mother says, OK? Now?

Moose ls worklng on a no-hltter.

l still hate it.

Good boy. Damn. l'm missing the game.|lt's for the pennant here.

He's a chucker, man.|He comes off the bench shooting, Bleek.

Never gonna see no pass from this guy.|He's a selfish ballplayer.

You need to get rid of him.

lt's your team. lt's your band.|You're the coach. Fire his ass.

Every night, three-hour solos.|Bleek, what's up?

lt's your band.

Get rid of this guy.|Go out there and play.

Great.

God.

Bleek, just talk to the guy, all right?

Talk to him.

All right!

Left Hand Lacey on the piano.

Left Hand.

The earl himself.|The earl of rhythm.

- Rhythm Jones on the drums.|- Thank you. Thank you.

On the bottom, the bass,|Bottom Hammer.

- Rock bottom, that's my man!|- Bottom Hammer.

On tenor and soprano saxophone,|Shadow Henderson.

- Shadow Henderson.|- Shadow, l love you.

Rate this script:4.9 / 8 votes