Crazy Harp

After seeing Bus Palladium and Crazy Heart, I was struck by the realization that we seldom get to see this kind of movie about classical musicians. Generally, when you see a driven or down-and-out concert pianist in a movie, you can be sure he’ll redeem himself, rather than become a Rachmaninov suicide. Thus filmmakers are missing out on a real opportunity, and I’ve sketched out a few scenes to illustrate my point.

Scene 1:
Our protagonist, coloratura soprano Ophelia “Bad” Buoninsegna, is driving a 1978 Dodge pickup across an arid desert landscape. She is 57 and wears a badly stained ballgown and a threadbare mink stole. She pulls over at the side of the road, vomits, then vocalizes.

BAD:
(swigging Slivovitz from the bottle)
I still got it, baby.

She gets back in the pickup and resumes driving, while “Prendi, per me sei libero” plays under the opening credits.


Scene 5:
In a cheap motel room, “Bad” is on the phone to her manager.

BAD:
Jesus Christ, Jack, you gotta get me out of this gig!

JACK:

We got a contract, baby. Just get through this one for me, and I’ll work out a sweet deal for you in Abilene next month.

BAD:

Goddammit, Jack, it’s a bowling alley! You got me singing in a goddam bowling alley! My accompanist is playing a freakin’ Hammond organ!

JACK:

I know it’s rough, baby, but this was the best I could do —

BAD:

Your contracts aren’t worth shit! That last gig in Tucson, the Baroque ensemble specifically told you they played period instruments. I get there, and the goddam harpsichordist says, “Well, I only play it once a month. Does that count?” Do you hear what I’m saying? “Does that count?” Get me out of this hell-hole! And when is Renée gonna cut another album with me?

JACK:
I’m working on it.

Disgusted, “Bad” hangs up.

Scene 7:
“Bad” has been told that the bowling alley doesn’t stock Slivovitz. She goes to a nearby liquor store, but realizes she doesn’t have enough cash.

LIQUOR STORE OWNER:

Hey — you — you’re “Bad” Buoninsegna, ain’t you?

BAD:
Ah — yes.

LIQUOR STORE OWNER:

I cain’t believe you’re in my store! The real-life Outlaw Soprano of the Golden West! I have all your albums — my wife is your biggest fan!

BAD:
Thank you.

LIQUOR STORE OWNER:

Could I ask you a favor? Tonight, at your concert, would you sing “Je suis Titania” for my wife? She just loves when you sing that.

BAD:
Sure. I’d be … happy to.

LIQUOR STORE OWNER:

Well, if that don’t beat all! “Bad” Buoninsegna, in my store! And gonna sing “Je suis Titania” for my wife! Say, I’d like to buy you a drink — Slivovitz is your brand, ain’t it? (He hands her the bottle.)

BAD:

Why, thank you! That’s most kind of you! I’ll be sure to dedicate that song to your wife —

LIQUOR STORE OWNER:

Bruce. Her name is Bruce. Just … ah … forget it. I got to close now.

Scene 18:
“Bad” has passed out in her motel room. A telenovela plays in the background. The half-empty bottle of Slivovitz is in her hand, and there’s mustard on her face. She’s wearing only an unfastened bra and a pair of boxer shorts. The remnants of a cheeseburger are stuck to her breasts.

Someone is knocking at the door. Groggily, without putting on a blouse, “Bad” opens the door a crack.

ACCOMPANIST:

Miss Buoninsegna? We were just wondering … when you wanted to rehearse.

BAD:
Rehearse?

ACCOMPANIST:
For the concert. Tonight.

BAD
(Squints at the sun)

Tell you what…. I’m kinda … busy right now. I’ll be over in about an hour. (Pause.) You boys know how to read music?

ACCOMPANIST:
Yes, ma’am.

Still in her underwear, “Bad” goes to her pickup in the parking lot. She removes an armload of scores.

BAD:

Just look over these, take your tempi from me, and we’ll get along just fine. And play this (hands him a CD) a few times. It’s got all my cadenzas and ornaments and … stuff … on it…. (She passes out again.)

Scene 16:
“Bad” is being interviewed by a journalist.

JOURNALIST:
Where do your songs come from?

BAD:
The nineteenth century. (Wry smile.) Unfortunately.

JOURNALIST:
Oh.

(A long and awkward pause follows.)

BAD:

There’s no training required to get a job as a music critic, is there? No special license or entrance exam you gotta pass, anything like that?

Scene 20:
“Bad” is performing in a dive bar. As her backup band launches the first strains of “O luce di quest’anima,” “Bad” staggers, blinks. She’s going to be sick.

BAD
(To the band)
I’ll be right back … just go on without me.

She runs to the alley behind the bar and throws up into an open violin case.

BAD:
Goddammit!

(Her tiara has fallen into the violin case. She fishes it out, tries to wipe it clean. She places it on her head. Then she stands, takes a deep breath, and turns to the stage door.)

BAD:
(To herself) Just phonate….