Fosse/Verdon

- 30 minutes a day of exercise.

Can't smoke.

Can't eat anything that tastes good.

I'm supposed to only work regular hours.

- Regular hours? What's--what's that?

Ah, who the hell knows?

I feel like shit. Come on, I'm done.

Let's sit.

Come on, let me help you.

Take it easy. Take it easy.

- All right, all right, all right.

Just take it--slow it down.

- You know, it's pretty lousy of you.

I have a heart attack, and then you upstage me

by having your own heart attack.

How's the movie? When do you start shooting?

A month.

Yeah? How's your script?

I think I need a new writer.

I just, uh-- get something new going.

- New writer a month before production.

- Well, you said it yourself the first time you read it.

It's--it's unsatisfying. It doesn't build to anything.

- That's 'cause your ending is shit.

I already told you that. - The ending--ending, I like.

- Bobby. - I like the ending.

- The problem with your movie, Bob, is very simple.

Your character doesn't change. Your hero doesn't change.

- Lenny didn't change. Charity didn't change.

- Exactly, none of your characters ever change,

which is why your endings are always shit.

I say this as a friend. - I disagree.

Bobby, it's storytelling 101.

Your hero has to change.

He's got to--

he's got to transform over the course of the picture.

It's called catharsis.

- How about it's called bullshit?

I want to do something real here,

not some bullshit fairy tale.

Who says fairy tale?

I'll tell you your story. You wanna know your story?

- Yeah, tell me my story. - All right.

I'll tell you your story.

Your story is...

Bobby meets a young dancer.

The character's name is Joe.

Joe. Joe Gideon. - Oh, Joe. Yeah.

That's really gonna throw them off the scent there, Bob.

Yeah, no one's ever gonna guess

that the hero at the center of your story

who can't stop popping pills and fucking broads

is supposed to be you because his name is Joe.

- All right, just tell me the story.

Act one.

Joe meets a beautiful young dancer

whom we will call-- I don't know--

Annie.

Now...

act one, Joe falls in love with Annie.

But he's still all mixed up with his ex-wife,

whom we'll call Gwen for no reason at all.

Now, act two,

Joe ruins everything with Annie because he's too selfish

and he can't stop screwing around.

All of the stress, all of the guilt

gives him a heart attack.

He ends up in the hospital.

Yeah?

Now, faced with the prospect of his own death in act three,

he suddenly realizes that it was Gwen all along.

She was the one for him from the start

because she was the only woman who was ever his true equal

as a creator, as an artist.

And he knows that he squandered everything with her.

He knows he shot it all to hell.

But now he's ready to change.

He's ready to give up the broads, yeah?

He's ready to--to get his act together

and--and spend the rest of his life with his soul mate,

with his collaborator, with the mother of his child

if he can just get out of this goddamn hospital bed.

But it's too late.

He doesn't make it.

He dies.

Roll credits.

See?

Transformation and tragedy.

It's moving. That's your story.

He already knows all that.

He knows should've been with her.

Oh.

- It doesn't matter what he knows.

Knowing doesn't change anything.

Oh.

- It's still just a bunch of bullshit.

It may be a nice story, but it's not true.

- Hey, I didn't say it was true, Bob.

I said it was a satisfying ending.

You want true, go to a priest, not a playwright.

- Testing one, two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

June 3rd.

Interview with Gwen Verdon for "All That Jazz."

Do you think you were angry with me

in some sense?

For what?

- For not taking care of myself,

for putting myself in this sort of situation

with my health.

- No, I was worried. I was terrified.

- Do you remember the mood in the rehearsal room

when, uh, everyone heard I was in the hospital?

Um, people were stunned.

They--uh, sadness.

- I heard Chita was crying, hysterical.

Who'd you hear that from?

Well, Chita.

- Nicole told me that you'd quit.

- I did. - So what happened?

Uh, Annie left.

Hmm.

She moved out a month ago.

Nicole told you?

No, Annie told me.

When did you talk to her?

- At rehearsal. We've been working on the part.

- Is that strange, uh, having Annie replace you?

- It's pretty familiar, I'd say.

She's in love.

- Yes, I know. I'm happy for her.

- He's gay, the--the guy she's dating, Charles.

- Well, apparently he isn't, so...

- Well, he and Annie are the only two people

in the world who don't realize it.

When I got out of the hospital,

did I seem different to you in any way?

Different how?

- Well, people say that I changed,

that I was, uh, meaner, I was harsh with people,

with you in particular.

You think that's true?

- Do you think that you changed?

Well, I'm interviewing you.

- I don't think you changed at all.

I think you became more yourself.

You stopped pretending to be anything else.

Did you hate me?

At times, yes.

Do you still?

No.

How do you feel?

- To tell you the God's honest truth,

I don't feel much of anything about you anymore, Bob.

Well, I'm just--

I appreciate your honesty.

I was--that's--

Hey.

You're home before curfew.

Should--should I be worried about you?

I can stay out if you want.

- That's all right. I got a job for you.

Take off your shoes. - Are you serious?

- Yeah, I want you to help me with a scene.

You want to keep living here, you got to earn your keep.

No such thing as free rent.

- Child labor is illegal, you know.

- Oh, is that right? - Yeah.

- Well, you can always move back in with your mom.

That's not even funny.

Hey.

Give me that.

Yeah, listen.

Stand next to me.

Can you see your reflection in the--in the glass?

- Barely. - Perfect.

I have this idea.

Do what I do but, uh, the ballet version.

I don't get it.

Shh. Just watch.

Port de bras.

Ooh.

Okay, kid.

Arch your back.

- Do you know who Bill "Bojangles" Robinson was?

Nope.

Oh, he was huge.

He was a big tapper in vaudeville.

They put him in the movies with Shirley Temple.

Sit down.

Jump up.

Oh, you're getting heavy.

Bend your leg.

Yeah, he went out of style.

Died without a cent.

Couldn't even pay for his own funeral.

Do you really not know who he is?

Do a head roll.

Straighten your leg.

- Oh, you're getting pretty good.