Mozart in the Jungle

Maestro.

Ah.

Woman: Okay, this room...

- Rodrigo. - Gloria.

Well, this is great timing.

I want you to meet Craig G.,

our marketing guru.

Maestro, it is an honor.

I would love to sit down with you

and go over a few ideas for the upcoming season.

"Hear the Hair"?

It's just something we're working on.

I like it. It's playful.

Hear the Hair?

It's just a tiny part of an overall campaign.

What do you think of #sinphomania?

Also playful.

- Hmm. - Yeah.

Hey, Gloria, I would like to introduce you to...

What... what... what?

Uh, Hailey Rutledge.

- ¿Oe? - Hailey Rutledge.

Rutledge.

She's the new member of our oboe section.

- A new member? - Yes.

Why? Did one of our old oboists pass away?

I wish.

Yeah, well, the thing is

our entire woodwind section

has been with the orchestra for over two years,

and as I'm sure you know, maestro...

A member who's been therefor more than two years

cannot be fired unless the union approves it.

I mean, it's a ridiculous constrict...

Let's just cut the red tape.

Let's cut the red tape.

You know, I agree completely,

but that's how it is.

Now, Hailey, you're a very attractive young woman,

- which doesn't hurt. - Thank you.

And I'm sure you play flawlessly.

No, she doesn't play flawlessly.

No.

She plays with blood,

and that's what matters.

Blood. That's what matters. I like that.

Look, I... I really don't mean to cause any problems.

It was really nice to meet you. It's such an honor.

Hailey. No, no, no. Wait. No, no, no.

There's no... I have a plan.

What if we start the season with Mahler's Eighth Symphony,

which requires

an extra oboe player?

Gloria: Mahler's Eighth.

Maestro, you know that we've had this season planned

for over two years.

You know that my contract says

that I can alter the season a little bit

three times per year.

- Virgil. - Maestro, I loved your "Eroica."

Yeah, fucking Vienna Philharmonic, yeah.

Well, regardless, Betty Cragdale, the first oboist,

traditionally chooses the substitute oboe players.

Betty Cragdale.

Is this Betty Cragdale's orchestra?

- It most certainly is not. - Craig G.

I like sinphomania. I like it.

I like it. I like it. It's... it's good.

It's a hashtag, right?

But "Hear the Hair"?

Hear the Hair.

No.

Nunca. Nunca.

¡Nunca, nunca, cabrón!

Okay?

Nunca, okay? Right?

Gloria, it's been a pleasure.

Hailey, can you hear my hair?

No.

Right.

Hailey, let's go.

Thank you.

Hailey, close the door.

Hey.

Hiya.

Badass, huh?

Mike, why are you getting a swastika tattoo?

- A what? - That is not a swastika.

It's the yin-yang. Don't overreact.

She's fucking with you.

This shit is not as easy as it looks.

But I'm sticking with it,

and I'm going to make bank.

Cool. Well,

say hello to the new fifth temp oboe in the New York Symphony.

- No way. - Yes way.

Mahler's Eighth, fifth chair.

Holy shit. Fifth fucking chair?

Fifth fucking chair!

Oh, my God. Congratulations.

We got to celebrate.

Oh, no. I got to study the score.

I can't fuck this up.

You're like the fucking Hendrix of oboe:

just swagger in, say "Here I am, bitches," and nail it.

It does look like a swastika. My mom's gonna kill me.

Stop whining. I'll make it look like a Rubik's Cube.

Flawed.

It was hopelessly flawed.

You seemed distracted.

We all have off days, even me.

Actually, I was talking about the Tchaikovsky.

You know, the bastard was right.

My farewell performance, and I cocked it up royally.

Come back to bed.

Perhaps you'll be given a second chance.

You know, Cynth, sans you,

my life is one fucking slow march to the grave.

Well, that's very romantic.

I bet you try that line on all the girls.

Let's go away.

I'll leave Claire.

Let's finally give this the shot

that I think we deserve.

Not after your performance today, honey.

Oh, piss off.

And do us both a favor.

Stop letting him get under your skin.

How?

Help him.

Help him what, destroy everything

that I've built up in the last 20 years?

He's an arrogant prick, but he respects you.

You're just too much of an arrogant prick to see it.

After all,

you're the executive musical director emeritus.

Ridiculous title.

Maybe, but you can still rattle some cages.

Last time I checked, you weren't dead.

Are you?

No.

I'm damn well fucking not.

Hey, could you change the record? It's skipping.

Oh. Wait. That's you playing the same piece over and over again

- and perfect every time. - Go away.

Shut the fuck up!

Sorry, Stan.

Yeah. Yeah.

So...

Do you find guys with lots of tattoos, like,

hot?

Absolutely, if they're already hot

before they got those tattoos.

Excuse me.

I'm going to go drive my heel into Hailey's fucking eyeball.

Hey, Rain Man,

I'm going to blow a massive bong hit into your face

and fuck up your precious lungs

if you don't stop playing this fucking Mahler.

- I have to practice. - You've got to sleep.

I can't sleep. Too amped.

No way. Lizzie,

there are, like, thousands of other oboists out there

with ten times more experience than me

whose lifelong dream it is

to play with the New York Symphony.

Hi. Is this Alex?

Yeah, hey.

This is Lizzie,

the hostess with the mostest.

What?

Yeah. Hailey has your scarf.

She's wondering if she can bring it by tonight.

Okay, yeah, right on. Just text us your address.

Adios.

What the fuck? Was that for real?

Oh. It was for real.

Look, he just texted his address. Go.

No, it's like 12:15. He's going to think it's a booty call.

Oh, perish the thought.

- Wrap this scarf around his booty. - Really?

- Hey. - Hey.

Here's your scarf.

Sorry I'm so late getting it back.

No problemo.

That's not actually

something that I say.

Oh. It's not, like, your catchphrase or anything.

No, no, no, no, no.

My catchphrase is, um...

"Catch you on the flip side."

Oh, yeah, that's, like, super cool.

Yeah, it's much cooler.

So, uh, I don't know. You going to come in?

Or do you have, like, some other scarves

you got to go deliver?

Uh, no, this is the last one.

- Really? - Yeah.

Oh.

Um, yeah, I'll come in.