Rhapsody in Blue

Jack, can I trade this in for a nickel?

Sorry, Georgie, but I can't use it.

Must I hear that number every day?

George!

Ira, do you got a nickel?

Nope.

What's that--

Another deadwood dick?

It ain't much good.

Say, we better get back and do our homework.

Race you home.

Hey, wait a minute!

Man: A little more to the left.

Steady now, boys.

How's it coming up there, Jerry?

Mom!

Who's getting a piano?

It's the Gershwin.

We don't have one.

Who wants a second-handed piano?

Come on inside.

What's going on?

Search me.

Gee, a piano. Some lucky guy.

Hey, that's our window!

No. There must be some mistake.

Let's go see.

Now, George, if it's not for us, don't be disappointed.

One piano comes in the house, and right away

the whole place is turned upside down on its head.

The house needs music. I've made up my mind.

Do you play the piano? Do I?

If your married sister can have one, why can't we?

So if she has a headache, I must have one, too.

Anyhow, a piano in the house is a sign of culture.

Woman: George, Ira, look out!

How many times-- Look out! Look out!

Ira!

Oh, always coming in with skates on the carpet. Look.

Hey, mom, does the piano belong to us?

Mm-hmm, so long as we can pay the installments.

Positively we will pay the installments,

and Ira will take lessons.

Ira?!

Oh, momma, have a heart.

You heard what I said.

Gee, do I have to take them?

You're the oldest.

There, now.

Without even a lesson.

Woman: 1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3, 4. 1...

Don't try to improve upon the classics, Mr. Gershwin.

Morris, I never saw such children.

Always wearing out the cuffs.

And George-- He tears off the buttons.

Look at it.

At their age, they've got their own worries.

What are you fixing now?

I'm not fixing. I'm ruining.

Morris, tell George to go downstairs and help out with the bakery.

Always playing music.

I'll go, mom, as soon as I'm through.

If he wants to play, momma, let him.

You, Ira-- always with a book under your nose.

Rose, when they're outside, you want them inside,

so when they're inside, leave them alone.

Who's bothering them?

Ah, such a mechanism. It's too involved.

Can I come in?

You're in already. What is it-- a telephone call?

No. Georgie.

Yeah?

Chico Marx tells me you should give me a nickel.

What for?

I got a message.

Poppa: What kind of a message?

Poppa.

A message always costs.

Thanks, Mr. Gershwin.

Such a popular family.

Every day a telephone call.

Well, what do you know? At last I got the job--

Relief pianist in a theater.

Who do you relieve?

Chico Marx.

Chico? He's the best pianist

in the whole neighborhood.

Sonny, I don't want you to work in no cheap vaudeville show.

It's a good job, mom.

Ira: A fella has to start somewhere, momma.

What a break, Georgie.

They've got some pretty good acts over there.

Here's one of the songs.

Don't pay any attention to me, son. I just work here.

Excuse me.

You're not a piano player.

You're a juggler.

Come on, give me that tempo, will you?

I don't know what I'd do without him

down there, but I'd rather!

Mm-hmm.

Stop it. Stop it!

Is that what you learn in the vaudeville job?

No. I quit that job, but I'll get another one soon,

and it will pay me more than 15 bucks a week.

15 or 50 or 500-- Does that make up

for ruining your technique when you have it in you

to become a concert pianist? Does it?

No, but, professor Franck,

I--I don't want to be just a concert pianist.

Just a concert pianist.

Oh, I didn't mean it that way, only...

Well, I want to make the piano a steppingstone.

A steppingstone-- and where will you step to, Mr. Gershwin?

To--to composition.

So for whom will you compose--

For ragtime dancers or for musicians?

I don't know. Maybe for both.

Seems like everything I hear sticks in my head.

I want to make those sounds come down

through my fingers and into the keys.

Go on, go on.

You don't have to say anything.

I--I know it isn't any good.

Did I say it wasn't any good?

Professor Franck, you mean that you really--

Ah, ah, ah. One swallow does not a summer make...

But it is different, shall I say?

Perhaps it was music half-formed.

Now, then, play that chopin,

but without ragging it!

They don't like this stuff.

Oh, what's the diff?

We got to make them like it, the chowder heads.

Anyway, it's time to go home.

Ah, they need something different. So do we.

Oh, a reformer! Let's go.

You can address it to Remick and company. Thank you.

[People playing pianos and singing]

No, pick it up, pick it up.

No, no. It's no--no pep. That's no good.

Did I say it was good?

I've played about everything we've got.

Well, sorry. I've got to have something with snap.

Say, wait a minute. How's this?

Hey, that's pretty good! Who wrote it?

I did.

You did? Well!

Whew! Congratulations!

I'll take a copy.

Wait a minute. It isn't published yet.

Say, that's an idea.

Mr. Kast, please.

Yes, Gershwin.

Oh, so he don't like any of our numbers.

No, but I played him a song, and he likes it. It's my own.

Oh, so he likes something you wrote?

Listen, Pinkers, you're being paid

to play Remick numbers, not your own. Do you mind?

No, we don't want to publish it!

He doesn't want to publish it.

Well, that's his hard luck.

Tell him he hasn't got anything else I want,

but if your song ever gets published, you let me know.

Thanks very much.

George.

Listen, George, don't let Kast get you down.

He doesn't know the first thing about music.

You're telling me.

I heard that number you were playing. It's alright.

Did you really like it, bill?

It has the smell of originality.

Heaven knows that's rare on these premises.

But what am I going to do?

I've written 5 songs,

and not one of them published.

How old are you, George?

Old enough.

Don't be in too great a hurry