· · ·
turning to page one
turning to page one
A table in the corner. Fletcher and Andrew seated. They seem to have been sitting here in silence for some time. Two drinks stand between them. Untouched. The other band members on-stage play JAZZ CLUB BLUES, a new PIANIST on the keys and a SAXOPHONIST added as well. Finally--
Pink (9/10/2013)
FLETCHER
So what are you up to these days, Andrew?
ANDREW
...Oh, just...you know...various...things...
Fletcher nods. Ok. Andrew eyes him. Then, nervous--
ANDREW (CONT’D)
...I--I’m sorry about what happened.
(then, should I clarify?--)
At Dunellen.
FLETCHER
You shouldn’t be. A player’s got to be
willing to fight.
Andrew looks at him.
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
You played with a broken bone. After
crashing a car. That’s insane.
ANDREW
I was in a different place.
FLETCHER
Good thing you’re not in that place
anymore.
A beat. Then -- Fletcher seems distracted. By people CLAPPING ALONG to the band...
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
Have you ever noticed it’s never the
people with rhythm who clap along?
He starts CLAPPING loudly, in the proper tempo. Leans over to the table next to his, where a COUPLE is clapping off-beat, and starts CLAPPING in their faces. Then sits back down.
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
I don’t know if you know... I don’t teach
anymore.
ANDREW
I... I heard about that... You quit?
FLETCHER
...No, not exactly.
He looks at Andrew. A moment of tension. Does he know...?
Pink (9/10/2013)
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
A couple parents got a kid from Sean
Casey’s year... I don’t know who, I think
maybe a bassist... They got him to say a
few things about me... That much I know...
(Andrew tries to hide his relief)
Though why anyone would have anything but
honey and sugar to say about me is a
mystery.
Andrew laughs. Seems the mood has lightened.
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
That’s a good laugh, huh?
ANDREW
Oh, no... I...I just--
FLETCHER
No, it’s ok -- I know I’ve made some
enemies. Maybe I seem to think my style
is normal, but believe me, I don’t.
A moment. Fletcher finally takes a sip of his drink.
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
I’m conducting some, though. They’re
bringing back the JVC Fest this year, got
me opening with a pro band in two weeks.
ANDREW
(genuinely impressed)
That’s amazing.
FLETCHER
(shrugs)
It’s ok...
Then, looking off for a moment--
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
The truth is I don’t think people
understand what it is I did at Shaffer. I
wasn’t there to conduct. Any idiot can
move his hands and keep people in tempo.
No, it’s about pushing people beyond
what’s expected of them. And I believe
that is a necessity. Because without it
you’re depriving the world of its next
Armstrong. Its next Parker.
(pause)
Why did Charlie Parker become Charlie
Parker, Andrew?
Pink (9/10/2013)
Beat. Andrew is surprised. He’s told this story himself.
ANDREW
Because Jo Jones threw a cymbal at him.
FLETCHER
Exactly. Young kid, pretty good on the
sax, goes up to play his solo in a
cutting session, fucks up -- and Jones
comes this close to slicing his head off
for it. He’s laughed off-stage. Cries
himself to sleep that night. But the next
morning, what does he do? He practices.
And practices and practices. With one
goal in mind: that he never ever be
laughed off-stage again. A year later he
goes back to the Reno, and he plays the
best motherfucking solo the world had
ever heard.
Andrew smiles. Nods. Finally -- unlike his uncles, his cousins, even his father -- someone who gets it.
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
Now imagine if Jones had just patted
young Charlie on the head and said “Good
job.” Charlie would’ve said to himself,
“Well, shit, I did do a good job,” and
that’d be that. No Bird. Tragedy, right?
Except that’s just what people today
want. The Shaffer Conservatories of the
world, they want sugar. You don’t even
say “cutting session” anymore, do you?
No, you say “jam session”. What the fuck
kind of word is that? Jam session? It’s a
cutting session, Andrew, this isn’t
fucking Smucker’s. It’s about weeding out
the best from the worst so that the worst
become better than the best.
(beat)
I mean look around you. $25 drinks, mood
lighting, a little shrimp cocktail to go
with your Coltrane. And people wonder why
jazz is dying.
(then,)
Take it from me, and every Starbucks jazz
album only proves my point. There are no
two words more harmful in the entire
English language than “good job”.
Beat. He leans back. Lets his words linger. Andrew thinks...
Pink (9/10/2013)
ANDREW
But do you think there’s a line? You know
-- where you discourage the next Charlie
Parker from becoming Charlie Parker?
FLETCHER
No. Because the next Charlie Parker would
never be discouraged.
Andrew takes this in. A moment...
ANDREW
...And you? Are you back to playing now?
FLETCHER
Not really. Here and there... The playing
never interested me. I never wanted to be
Charlie Parker. I wanted to be the man
who made Charlie Parker. The man who
discovered some scrawny kid, pushed him,
prodded him, shaped him into something
great -- and then said to the world,
“Check this out. The best motherfucking
solo you’ve ever heard.”
ANDREW
Who’s your Charlie Parker, then?
(hesitant)
Sean Casey...?
The name hits Fletcher. Fletcher looks at Andrew -- who immediately regrets bringing that name up. Why? Because, even after everything, the sight of Fletcher hurting affects him...
FLETCHER
Sean... Sean was a sweet kid... And with
all those idiots saying “This isn’t for
you”, Sean did something great. Very few
people ever get that chance...
He pauses. Looks off. Looks at the musicians on-stage...
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
But no... Not Sean Casey.
(then, as he thinks about this,)
The truth is I don’t know if I ever had a
Charlie Parker...
(and then,)
But I tried. And that’s more than most
people can say, Andrew. I tried. And even
if I never find one, I will never
apologize for trying.
Pink (9/10/2013)
He’s silent. A look of disappointment.
Then, he points to the PIANIST on-stage...
FLETCHER (CONT’D)
He’s a beautiful player, isn’t he?
ANDREW
Yeah...
Fletcher nods. His thoughts drifting again. A moment passes.