The Saddest Music in the World

You are a very sad man, Mr. Kent.

Nothing gets me down, sugar.

Put your hands on the ice... next to mine.

Just a second.

Stand behind me. For moral support.

My other pocket's lonely.

Let 'er rip.

Keep moving your hands until you feel something.

She's a wise old woman.

Look into the ice.

I'm looking.

Closer.

Look into your soul, Mr. Kent.

As your wise old fingers will tell you,

I didn't cry at my mother's funeral, and I don't cry now.

Look to your own miseries, Mr. Kent.

Otherwise, you are a dead man.

Narcissa, do you have another nickel?

Give her a tip.

A dead man!

Dead!

See how much happiness your money can buy.

Now, what possessed you to take me there?

Well, when I first saw you, my tapeworm said, ''Fortune-teller,''

and that settled it.

I never go against my tapeworm.

I don't believe in this tapeworm of yours.

Most tapeworms are chewers, not talkers.

Oh, yes. He's got a very strong will. He's irresistible.

I'm cold.

Let's take a streetcar.

We can't pay.

It's the 23. We won't have to.

Are you an American?

I'm not an American. I'm a nymphomaniac.

As long as you're not American, you can be whatever you like.

Well, he's an American.

You're mistaken.

He may have the stink of America on him,

but I assure you he's Canadian... 100%.

- You lied to me? - No.

It's like I said. I'm a producer from New York.

Just down on his luck.

A real-live, Yankee-Doodle boy.

Then you're no son of mine.

Muskeg beer hall. End of the line!

Get up Get your boots on

Hurry up, hurry up

Time's a wastin' if you're not tastin'

Lady Port-Huntley Beer

Can't wait to drink

One down, two down, three down, four

Along this town we want to be true

Lady Port-Huntley's beer

It's for me and for you

It's for me and for you

The Muskeg beer hour is still gushing!

I'm Duncan Ellsworth, your classical music host,

and I've got major key news for you...

a contest, ladies ard gentlemer.

The most exciting in our history.

Want to trade your sorrows in for some spondoolicks?

Here to explain how is Her Serenity herself,

Lady Port-Huntley.

Thank you, Duncan.

Listen to the sounds of Winnipeg.

The white breathing of a nocturnal city in this sad, sad world.

We at Muskeg beer

are proud that Winnipeg has been chosen

four years in a row by the London Times

as the world capital of sorrow in the great depression.

In recognition of this honor,

we will be hosting a world-wide contest

to determine which nation's music truly deserves to be called

''the saddest in the world''.

Aspirirg virtuosos of tearful melody

are welcomed to travel here and lay claim

to the jewel-studded crown of frozer tears...

and $25,000 in prize money.

That's right... 25.000 depression-era dollars.

I can already see that return ticket to Manhattan.

Come on, let's drink fast. I got business to attend to.

The Lady Port-Huntley's Saddest Music In The World cortest.

And they're off!

What do we really get for our money?

Listen.

Within a few months, Congress will end prohibition

and America will be saying goodbye to bootleggers

and be running... and I mean running...

back to the neighborhood's bar.

Imagine a hundred million drinkers

willing to pay top dollars for legal booze,

even if they can't make the rent or buy their children shoes.

We, Canada, that happy suds buddy to the north,

open the flood gates and makes a killing.

If you're sad and like beer...

I'm your lady.

Maybe you should make yourself scarce for a while.

Wait. Don't disappear on me.

How long will you be?

If I'm not thrown out, under half an hour.

I'll just curl up here and take a nap.

We will be going for countries with the highest rate of depression

'cause this is where people drink the most.

Excuse me for interrupting, but somebody calling himself

the ''American Ambassador of Sadness''

says that you wish to see him immediately.

He can take a seat in the waiting room like everybody else.

He refuses to wait.

He said if I didn't announce him instantly, you'd have me fired.

And what does this buffoon look like?

Well-tailored, wears spats,

clean fingernails, clean-shaven.

Spats?

Would you call his hair slippery?

Chester Kent.

Okay, everybody. Fifteen minutes.

Teddy, stay here.

Lady P.

Had a few hours between trains, thought I'd drop in.

For what purpose?

Well...to see how you're getting on.

It's a bad time for me.

I'm devoured with guilt

about the obscene amount of money I'm making

at a time where so many people have nothing.

I'm sure you do what you can.

And I am heartsick about poor Teddy over here.

With a wonderful wife and two beautiful children,

and has to make me...

sing in a seesaw

whenever I ask him, just to keep his job.

Don't be embarrassed, Teddy.

Idealism and business rarely mix.

May I?

But I console myself with the thought, Chester,

that if I hadn't met you,

I might never have done anything to be ashamed of!

Why bother with shame at all, is my philosophy.

Look at the pictures on the wall! Look at them!

Tell me what you think!

You're everywhere.

I'd say you qualify as the star of your own life.

When I had a life, that was true.

You got a new dolly. It's nice.

Teddy, have you ever wondered where my legs went?

He's been a dear. He has never asked once.

Well, let's be fair, Helen.

You can only hang one of those missing legs on me.

- What is it that you want from me today? - I want a crack at that prize money.

And how do you intend to do that?

By serving up the saddest number you ever heard.

I've got schmaltz routines that could ring sobs from a moose.

Really? And you'll be representing America, right?

Yeah. Tears, Helen, for all those blubbers in the old melting pot.

I doubt there is anyone on Earth

who knows less about grief than you do.

Nothing makes a dent.

Sadness is just happiness turned on its ass. It's all showbiz.

You got an orchestra handy? I'll prove it to you.

Actually, I do.

- Great. Haul 'em in here. - Teddy, the orchestra.

They're very genteel. They play blindfolded.

A novelty act, huh? What's the kicker?

When Teddy and I sing on the seesaw, they play.

That's a hard act to follow.

Your audition will be much simpler.

I want you to tell about my ''accident'',

if you can still remember it.

No, Teddy, you've been spared today.

Go back.

Start the music.

Play not too fast, and with feeling.

So, where do I start?

Why don't you start with your father?

And end with him... full circle.

Well, he was in love with you, but there was a problem...

you loved me.

Yes...

and you never loved me.

Yes, I see it.

- So long ago. - It feels like yesterday.

I was flattered.

A beautiful woman... paying attention to me.

He suspected me.

He had good reason to. Right under his nose, every chance we got.

- We drove him to drink. - He wanted to marry you.

He thought himself... a cuckold by you.

- Oh, yes, I see it. - So long ago.

It feels like yesterday.

He started wearing his old uniform.

Canadian lieutenant. The great war.

Marching up and down the stairs late into the night with his rifle.

Drunk.

Your brother Roderick trying to heal him with music.

The day of the car trip.

The ice storm. The empty road.

Except for him trying to stop the car.

- His hand was out. - And there was your head lifting up.

Blocking my view.