Nocturne (2020) - full transcript

No, nothing.

- Really?
- Yes!

Hey, wombie.

Have you seen my score
for the Saint-Saëns?

It's not in my folder.

Why would I know
where your music is?

I don't know.

Sorry for daring
to ask a question.

Are you done?

I need to borrow your phones.
Mine are fucked.

Not like I'm getting
anything done anyways.



You know what they say.

"Whoo-hoo. Spring break."

I'll be in my room.

Welcome.

No, no, no, wait.
You have to go north.

They have these
amazing vineyards.

It's, like, this wine country...

Mm-hmm, yeah.

Uh, right next to Venice.
What's it called?

- The Veneto.
- Well, that is an option.

- That's an option.
- Il Veneto.

You got to get it right. Yes.

Oh, hey.

Juju, sweetheart, you girls
finished practice already?



Uh, Vi's still going.

Juliet's our youngest.

Oh, I thought you had twins.

Two minutes apart.

Someone has to hold the door.
Right?

But we heard your news.
Juilliard.

Congrats. That's incredible.

Uh, you're thinking
of my sister Vi.

She's going to Juilliard
next year.

Julie is taking the gap year
to consider her options.

That's smart.
You know what, I have a cousin.

He did fine arts,
college, everything.

Eight years later,
he's teaching preschoolers

how to make things out of
washi tape. - Hey.

-Crafts are important.
-I'm just saying,

there's eight billion people
on this planet,

and everybody wants to have

their moment in the spotlight,
and it's not gonna happen.

The Instagram generation
needs to be more realistic

about long-term
career prospects.

I don't have social media, so...

- See?
- Oh, good.

That's a start.

Dad, what time
are we leaving tomorrow?

-Oh, whenever you want.
-They're at boarding school.

- Lindberg Academy.
- The arts school?

Isn't that where that girl...?

It's fine.

I didn't really know her.

Okay, hey, sweetie,
make sure you got

everything ready for tomorrow.

Okay.

- Nice to meet you.
- Bye, guys.

Um... okay.

So, what was...
I'm sorry, what was that place?

Max! Max!

-Hi.
-Hey, Vi.

Yeah, no problem, Vi!

Just take your time!

Car will unload itself!

Young love.

A father's waking nightmare.

You got your pills?

All right, look.

I know the Juilliard thing
hit you hard.

And they don't know
what they're missing.

But no, listen to me.

You got a big heart.

You got a beautiful face.

-Dad.
-And no matter what

those artistes
in there tell you,

there's more to life
than solos and spotlights.

And any academic school
would kill to have you.

All right, I'll get your stuff.

Moira Wilson was one of
the finest musicians

ever to grace Lindberg Academy.

For many of you,
what happened here six weeks ago

will be your first
experience of loss.

Moira's passing
is a stark reminder

of the darkness we all face

in our lives
and in our artistic pursuits.

As you all know, Moira was
to deliver the concerto solo

in our Music Showcase
later this quarter.

A long-standing
school tradition,

the senior concerto
has successfully launched

the careers of many Lindberg
graduates over the years.

Following much discussion,
we have decided

to rerun the senior
concerto competition

in her memory.

Music majors of all disciplines
are encouraged to participate.

Submit your repertoire
to Dr. Cask.

So, you orch dorks horny
for Hunger Games round two?

"Orch dorks"? I resent that.

Did you tell him the news?

Who says I don't know the news?

Um, were you in assembly?

Uh, I had shit to do.

They're rerunning the concerto.

In memory of Mad Moira.

Oh, my God, will you stop
calling her that?

She carved symbols all over
the wall and threw herself

out a third-floor window.
Plus, she talked to what,

like, no one
the entire time she was here?

And she was ambidextrous.

And that's relevant because...?

She wrote with both hands.

Inside out,
like Leonardo da Vinci.

The chick was just
new levels of freaky.

She was brilliant.

It's just weird,
the competition.

I mean, she died six weeks ago.

Yeah, it's kind of soon,

but the showcase is
a big opportunity.

I mean, someone else
should get a chance.

Yeah, I heard Juilliard's
sending scouts this year.

- Really?
- And my golden gal

is gonna wow them all again
when she plays her concerto.

It's an open competition.

Oh, come on, you're with Cask.

Best teacher, best student.

Anyways, if you're asking for
my completely unbiased opinion,

it should've been you
the first time around.

Oh, so you pushed her.

- And then...
- Shut up!

And then she's just
born for greatness.

It's all coming together.

You gonna change your entry?

It's too late.

And Roger won't let me.

Oh, you know what I think.
Nobody...

"No one ever won anything
with Mozart."

Jules, I say this lovingly
as your sister:

Grow some balls.

Repeat after me:

Roger Melling,
you are a drunken,

cockless excuse of a teacher...

-Okay, I can't actually
say that, though, can I? -Why?

You're scared
he'll set the claw on you?

Okay, stop.

It's focal dystonia, and it's
common in musicians his age.

The claw.
It's gonna get you.

Hey, you dropped...

Phrasing.

Good. Very good.

I see you managed
to fit in some practice

between all the drugs
and the underage drinking.

I leave the drinking
to the experts.

Very funny.

-They're rerunning the concerto.
-So I hear.

Feeling positive?

I was thinking about
changing my piece.

I've been looking
at Saint-Saëns' 2.

Third movement still needs work,
but I can get there.

-You mean Vivian's piece?
-It's not that hard.

Cask lets Vi play it.

Henry's methods are his own.

I know, but if I just
get the chance...

You'd make a pig's ear of it.

Is that what you want?

Stick with Herr Amadeus.

He will reward you.
He always does.

Uh, Dr. Cask?

My piece for tomorrow.

"Immortal glory awaits she
who in her darkness welcomes me.

"The path required
this book depicts:

one, two, three,
four, five, six."

Tartini.

The composer.

It didn't say the piece.

That's the "Devil's Trill."

By the way, Vivian doesn't know

you're playing
the same piece as her, does she?

Please don't tell her.

She'll kill me.

Break a leg.

Jules, open the fucking door!

Jules, come on!

We're gonna be late! Jules!

Wombie, you owe...

Whoa.

-Fuck.
-Oh, this is hilarious.

Don't you keep, like,
a calendar or something?

No, it wasn't supposed to...

Fuck!

Hey, hey.

Come here. Look at me.

Hey.

Head in the game.

Okay?

Okay.

You're fine. Come on.
Let's tampon and go.

Vi.

-Vi.
-Jules, not now.

Well read, Andy.

Anyone left?

I haven't played.

Juliet.

Come on down.

Come here.

So...

it says here
you're also treating us

to Saint-Saëns.

Is that right?

When you're ready.

Juliet.

Can you hear me?

There she is.

We're waiting on the nurse.

What happened?

You passed out.

How'd I play? Was I good?

You did great.

Roger says you've been taking
propranolol.

-Is that for anxiety?
-Yeah.

You know, with recent events,

you may be feeling
a little destabilized.

Is there anything on your mind?

Odd thoughts?
Troubling thoughts?

No.

Nothing.

So, remember, E-flat major.

An accidental there.

Find where it is.

Same thing again.

And for the finish, do not
forget to name the cadence.

Turn in
your transcriptions to me

by the end of the day,
ladies and gentlemen.

Juliet, you good?

-You saw the nurse?
-Yeah. It was just nerves.

You know, you played well.

Has Roger got you doing
something different?

No, I, uh, guess
I just felt inspired.

Well, whatever it is,
it's working.

Keep up the momentum, okay?

Okay.

Vi.

Vi, come on.

Vi, stop.

I'm sorry. I fucked up.

I should've told you
I changed my entry.

Changed your entry?
You stole my piece.

What, is something funny?

No, just...

you're the one
who told me to switch.

To Beethoven or Grieg
or freaking Rachmaninoff.

I mean, you literally had
hundreds of options.

-I know. I just, I didn't think.
-No, you didn't.

Because if you had, you'd have
realized the only person

you were embarrassing out there
was yourself.

I already knew you were jealous.

Now, thanks to your little
stunt, everybody else does, too.

That's a really good point.

-Yeah, but they're both
in E major. -Right.

How are you feeling?

Good.

So, you went for
the Saint-Saëns.

You know,

when I suggested that
you stick with the Mozart,

I had your best interests
at heart.

Still, I suppose it's behind us.

-Are you proud of me?
-Proud?

Of course I'm... proud of you.

Four years
we've studied together.

You're a fine player.

Right.

What if I could be more?

I don't follow.

What if I could be
more than fine?

What if I could be great?

What if all I needed
was a chance to compete,

to prove myself?

Julie.

I salute your ambition.

But if we all played
concertmaster,

we'd never have an orchestra.

Now, you're a good player.

I believe in you.

But you have to manage
your expectations.

We can't all be off
chasing concerti.

So, what should I be chasing?

Teaching posts.

Chamber work.

You are a sensitive accompanist.

Schools are always looking.

"A sensitive accompanist"?

I was practicing three hours
a day when I was nine.

I've never owned a PlayStation.

Never smoked a cigarette.

Do you know the average age

people lose their virginity
in this country?

It's 17.

Next month, I will be
a statistical fucking anomaly.

I have given my entire life
to music,

and you think I did it
so I could sit

at some school hall keyboard

eating some seventh-grade
part-timer's shit?

Did you vote for her?

What?

The competition.

Did you vote for Vi?

Vivian...

was the more accomplished
musician.

Now, let's put this behind us.

No.

I've outgrown you, Roger.

Outgrown me?

Don't act dumb.

I know it. You know it.

If you were
a half-decent teacher,

you would've passed me on
a long time ago.

And Juilliard?

My fault, too, is it?

I told you, widen the net.

Northwestern, Oberlin--
you might have made it.

But no, you insisted--
only Juilliard.

Juilliard, with its
six-percent acceptance rate.

It kills you, doesn't it?

That I actually have ambitions.

That I won't just lie down
and become some footnote.

Footnote?
The way you're going,

you'll be the world's first
virtuoso burger flipper.

Better that
than a deformed drunk

who pretends he chose teaching

when he hasn't performed
in public in 20 years.

Julie...

We've opted for suspension.

There will be
an investigation, but, um...

Roger is a superlative teacher.

- We'd hate to act rashly.
- I get it.

You'll need an interim tutor.

I already asked Laura.
She has some space.

I was wondering
if I could have Dr. Cask.

Henry only works with students

who are truly serious
about a career in music.

I am serious.

Are you getting
these flyers for the end show?

We should go.

I don't know,

but it's good to support.

Got it.

Whatever.

I would, though.

I mean, if that was my sister,
I'd, uh...

Seriously, though,
I feel really bad for her.

Oh, hang on.

Really?

- Whoa. -Really?
- Oh, Jules, Jesus Christ.

Fuck is that?

Tampons, right, Vi?

You're a complete fucking bitch.
You know that, right?

Okay.

Okay, listen. See?

This is good. This is good.

Now we're-we're even.

What do you mean?

What do you mean,
what do I mean?

Wombies.

Together forever, right?

Right.

Hear about Roger?

Yeah. That's some bad karma.

They're putting me with Cask.

Congratulations.

Chromatic scale, from B flat.

In tritones. Both hands.

Okay. First movement.

That's Mozart.

Last time I checked,
you were doing the Saint-Saëns.

Or was that just a stunt
to get on your sister's tits?

Saint-Saëns.

First movement.

Why did you change your piece?

Um... I don't know.

Why did you change your piece?

I wanted to beat her.

Her technique is no better
than yours.

-That's not...
-Take the compliment.

Her technique is no better.

Her efficiency is worse.

So, what makes Vivian the star
and you the...

...whatever you are?

She plays like
the Devil is at the door.

What about Moira?

Moira?

She beat Vi
the first time around.

Is that how she played?

She played like
the Devil was in the room.

Music is a blood sport.

If you really wanted
that spotlight,

you wouldn't let anything
get in your way.

Not even Vivian.

Shit.

She wrote with both hands.

Inside out,
like Leonardo da Vinci.

Holy shit.

"One. Invocation."

"Two.

Assurance."

"Three. Triumph."

"Four. Consummation."

"Five. Purification."

Six...

It's tradition.

I can't.
Vi wouldn't want me there.

-Besides, it's past curfew.
-Sure, she would.

Come on. We're late.

What if they catch us?

Never have yet.

Hey, Max, wait up.

Whoo! What's up,
my man? - Come on.

Hey.

The reinforcements have arrived.

Hey, buenas noches.

What's going on, my guy?

-Something for you.
-Oh. Thank you.

And something for me?

You the man.

Appreciate you.

All right, party people.

Who needs the goods?
The doctor has arrived!

You're a rebel, Jules.

An outcast.

A, uh, guerrilla unit
rising against the tyranny of...

Okay.

Because it's
3:00 in the morning.

It's done, okay?

I'm with Max. I'm, uh...

What part of "it's over"
do you not understand?

Are you serious right now?

No, I-I'm done.

I-I am fucking done fucking you.

And stop calling me.

Vi?

Vi, that you?

Holy shit.

Hey, Jules. You okay?

Can I ask you something?

Why do you play?

Honestly...

it's for the pussy.

Band camp baddies.

Seriously, Max.

I don't know.

I guess I always wanted to.

What about you?

Why'd you start?

-Come on. You've heard this.
-Not from you.

My parents like two things:

expensive vacations...

...and cheesy
Hollywood musicals.

Their favorite's
An American in Paris.

Oscar Levant plays
Gershwin's Concerto in F.

I swear...

I watched that scene, like,

a hundred times between
the ages of four and five.

And then I begged and begged,

and eventually--
probably to shut me up--

my parents started us
in piano lessons.

I was like a penny
in a slot machine.

Everything just made sense.

Vi less so.

Then something happened.

Like what?

She got good, and I didn't.

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, whoa.

No, your audition was fire.

You taking new vitamins?

Uh, I had a good day.

Oh, seriously?

Okay, but...

you have to promise
not to tell anyone.

Especially Vi.

I stole Mad Moira's theory book.

Okay, wait.

-Wait, what?
-No, I-I didn't mean to.

They were cleaning out
her mailbox,

and it dropped to the floor.

I've been reading it,
studying it, I guess,

and it's like
it's talking to me.

Like it's trying to help.

I feel more confident.

Like I'm taking control.

Well, guess we all
have our vices.

What about Vi?

Next year,
you're going to San Fran.

She'll be on the East Coast.

Mm, yeah, we'll...

make things work.

So, you love her?

Sure.

Come on, Jules,
you know the deal.

Love, hate, et cetera.

No, not really.

What, you never been kissed?

Guess we've all been there.

I'd like to be.

Kissed.

Wow.

Um, hey, babe.

What's happening?

Uh, we were just...

-She's my sister.
-Babe, we tried to call you.

-Max was just helping me.
-Jules, save the martyr act.

I've seen the way
you look at him.

And you fucking leading her on

like you don't see her sweating
every time you walk in the room.

Uh, we were just talking.

What planet do you
think I'm on? I saw you.

-Yeah, you saw us talking, Vi.
-I heard everything you said.

-Vi, he's telling the tru...
-What do you mean? Wait...

Vi, what the fuck?

- Vi? -VI: Stop!
- What the fuck was that?!

- Vi!
- Jules, fucking stop!

Baby, I'm sorry!
Listen, nothing happened!

Jules! Stop!

Vi, come back!

Stop!

What the fuck?!

Vi?

-Wait!
-Jules, where...

Where's Vi?

Oh, Jesus.

Vi! Baby?

I'm coming, okay?

Just hang in there, okay?

It'll be all right.

Just t-two seconds, babe.

Vi, baby.

Okay. Okay. It's okay.

Ma...

Max, Max...

Get the others back to bed.

Did you see the light before?

What light?

Hi. Yeah, uh,
I need an ambulance.

Jules, please!

Fuck, Jules.

What happened last night
after Vi fell?

You found us,
told us what happened.

-We headed back to school.
-And Vi?

Juliet.

Principal Gordon
wants to see you.

Hey.

-How's your...
-They're waiting for you.

Ah. Juliet.

Please.

I assume you heard
what happened last night.

Your sister and Max
gallivanting off school grounds.

- Is Vi okay?
- She's fine.

She's suspended.

They'll spend school hours
in isolation.

We've been trying
to get ahold of your parents

ever since
the hospital called us.

Do you know where they might be?

Um, they're in...
they're in Europe.

So, Vi can play?

- Her arm looked...
- Broken. Two places.

Vivian will be taking
a break from piano.

For a while, at least.

-How long?
-Six months.

Juilliard--
she's due in the fall.

There's no rushing
the healing process.

Which leads us
to why you're here.

Rehearsals are too far gone
for us to alter our repertoire.

Henry tells us you've mastered
the Saint-Saëns.

You're offering me the concerto?

You don't have to make
a decision now,

but with your recent progress,
we think you'd do a great job.

I've got finals.

We can get you
some extra practice periods.

Yes.
Yes, I'll-I'll do it.

Well, that's decided.

Andy.

You ready?

Vi!

Congratulations.

She'll never forgive me.

And yet you said yes.

Thank you.

You missed a bit.

Vi.

Come on, Vi, please.

You know what the doc said?

I might never play
the same again.

I'm sorry it had to be this way,
but I didn't break your arm.

No.

You didn't have to.

What are you saying?

You could've called out.

Max said you did for him.

But you let me fall.

Didn't you, Jules?

We used to be so close.

And I knew we'd grown apart--
of course I did--

but I guess I never realized...

I heard you on the phone
last night.

Who were you talking to?

You have no fucking clue
what you're talking about.

I know you cheated on Max.

He has a right to know.

And you'll be the one to
oh-so-selflessly tell him,

won't you?

Something's up with you.

Don't think I can't tell.

Just know, this time, I won't
be there to pick up the pieces.

Hey.

You wanted to talk?

Thanks for meeting me.

Is everything okay?

Not really.

Moira's book.
I told you about it.

I wasn't sure at first,

but after the other night,
I realized--

the things in these pictures,
they're happening to me.

And not just happening;
they're helping.

This is Vi.

And...

that's Roger.

And this is me, I think.

So you're telling me
this book predicts the future?

No, obviously not.

These things happened
to Moira, too.

Did you know she lost her
parents right before she died?

Her mom, she fell off a ski lift
and went into a coma.

And her dad
burnt down their house

with him inside it.

Christ, that's awful.

But psychosis runs in families.

Does it run in schools, too?

Either these things
happened to Moira

and they're happening to me now,

or I'm going crazy
just like her.

Okay. Nobody crazy
thinks they're crazy.

But let's logic this out.

Moira suffered some pretty
horrific personal tragedies.

She couldn't talk about them,
so she drew them.

Art therapy's a thing.

Don't you think it's more likely
you saw these images

and now you're projecting them
into everyday life?

Subconsciously.

The concerto's in two weeks.

You got finals coming up.

You're tweaking the fuck out,
Jules.

I know.

I'm sorry.

I just... I don't know who else
to talk to right now.

Actually...

I need to tell you something.

Can we please
just talk about it?!

It's done! It's done!

Can you speak freaking English
for, like, two seconds?

Can you just pay some attention?

Like, you're not even listening!

What the hell?!
I have been paying attention!

Two days.

You nervous?

If you need anything.

It's our birthday tomorrow.

Our parents are back.
They're taking us to dinner.

Many happy returns.

Are you free?

Whoa. Hey, it's me.

Door was open.

You okay?

I... I don't think so.

Okay.

Where's Vi?

I don't know.

Actually, we...

We broke up.

Good.

Come on.

Oh, shit.

No, no, no.

What's wrong?

Sorry.

This was a bad idea.

Max.

Make a wish.

We were so amazed
to hear Juju's news.

I mean, gutted for Vi,
of course. - Mm.

But, I mean,
the last time Julie played

a solo in public was...

-second grade?
-Yeah. Yeah.

When their first teacher
gave Juju a solo

at a concert and she...

I never played solo with Gwen.

No, yes, you did. You did.
Some gavotte.

Anyway, the poor thing
went out to play,

-and she just...
-Can we not?

Uh, so, uh, Henry, uh,

the girls tell us
you have had quite the career.

What was it you played with?
The Berlin... something?

I appeared Berliner.
Moscow, London.

Now I'm here.

The, uh, caretaker
of a new generation.

- Did I miss the punch line?
- No, it's just...

"New generation."

Classical music.

The stats aren't promising,
are they?

- Cass, shh.
- No, please.

Go on. A little debate
never hurt anyone.

What stats do you mean?

Well, um, you know,

live audiences--
shrinking, aging.

Only one and a half percent

of music streamed online
is classical.

N-Now, now, don't get me wrong.

I mean, the girls
chose this path,

and we see how hard they work,

and, well,
we think it's amazing.

-Yeah.
-But you have to wonder,

with the way things are going,
in the next ten years,

is there gonna be anybody left
to listen to them?

Have you ever heard
of the composer Tartini?

The "Devil's Trill."

Tartini was a violinist.

One day, he wakes
to find a devil

sat upon the end of his bed.

The Devil, fiddle and all.

He asks the creature
what he's doing there.

And Satan says that
he will teach him a melody

so perfect, so divine

that he will weep
for its loveliness.

All Satan asks in return
is a single soul.

Now, when the composer wakes--
for certain, this time--

the Devil is gone.

He takes up his pen,
scribbles down some notes.

300 years later, Tartini's work
is largely forgotten.

All except the "Devil's Trill."

Well,

lucky for us
the Devil doesn't play piano.

Our music isn't easy.

You start in preschool,
you give your life to the work,

and perhaps one day, you'll be
good enough to compete.

When you go see that concert--
the big solo, the concerto--

that's not just music
you're watching.

It's sacrifice.

And yes, we may live in a world
where people would rather listen

to a half-literate teen
swear in time to a drum machine.

But so long as there are people
who appreciate that sacrifice,

real music will live on.

Preserved by those
who deserve it.

Here comes the good stuff.

Hey. Vi.

- Vi, Vi, get back here.
- Sweetie, what...

Vivian Lowe,
where do you think you're going?

I'm so sorry, Henry.

I have no idea
what got into her.

It's a stressful time
for everyone.

Are you staying in town?

Yeah, uh, a B and B.

Um, crap coffee, but...

-Hey, what's the name of
the place we're staying? -Huh?

Oh, hey, do you have the ticket?

What ticket?

The valet ticket.

Are you drunk?

Perhaps I could
drive Juliet back.

My place is right by the school.

Make any breakthroughs?

I didn't know you conducted.

I won that in Germany.
The Leon München.

-You won the Leon München?
-It was second place

and 20 years ago, but yes.

So... tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Now, listen, because I'm only
going to say this once.

There is something inside you.

A seed of greatness.

And it may not be full-grown,
but it's there.

Now, there are people
out there in the world

who will try to
convince you otherwise.

So you need to practice
saying this to yourself:

"I have something."

What are you doing?

-I thought you...
-You thought wrong.

But you said...

Christ, Juliet.

I was trying to boost your
confidence before the big day,

not risk my career
making out with a student.

You find something funny?

No.

It's just...

I know.

About you and Vi.

I don't understand.

I saw your number on her phone.

I didn't know it was yours until
you gave it to me yesterday.

You were fucking her,
weren't you?

I did nothing
without her consent.

Anyway, it's over.

Then why do you keep
calling her?

Wow.

You're in love with her,
aren't you?

You know, I used to idolize you,

but you're no different
than Roger.

Just acting like a big man
in this empty house

with your second-place trophy
that you won two decades ago.

And you...

you wouldn't know anything about
failure, would you, Juliet?

I've had a bumpy ride.

Starting tomorrow,
that's gonna change.

I mean, you said it.

I have something.

And unlike you or Roger,

I'm not gonna miss
my chance to prove it.

I'm gonna be great.

Oh, yes?

Let's name some of
these greats, shall we?

Gould, Ashkenazy, Horowitz.

What do all these names
have in common?

I don't know.
What do they have in common?

They didn't go
to arts high schools.

Didn't you ever wonder why

the Perahias and Pollinis
of this world

never sat around winning
school concerto competitions?

It's because
they jumped that hurdle

before most people
know how to walk.

They were playing world stages
before they could ride a bike.

You're not going to miss your
chance at greatness, Juliet.

You already have.

That's not true.

I'm not like you.

No.

You don't even have the trophy.

You bitch.

Get out!

You're last in the first half.

Unfortunately,
Henry won't make it.

He called in sick.

I'm sure everything is fine.

Just letting you know.

Good evening.

Thank you all
for being here tonight.

For our senior music class,
tonight represents

the culmination
of an artistic journey

which has lasted
four years here at Lindberg.

And so, without further ado,

I cede the stage
to our first performer.

Come in.

I was beginning to wonder...

Hey, wombie.

Max told me what happened.

What did I do
to make you hate me, Jules?

Where'd I screw up?

Second grade?

Your solo with Gwen--
you remember?

Mom did.

You were so excited.

The night came,
you walked out there,

and you froze.

Like a little rabbit
in headlights.

Mom and Dad couldn't get you
to leave the stage,

so I went up there.

I went up there,
and I took your hand,

and I told you...

Do you remember what I told you?

I told you I would always
be there for you.

I mean, maybe I wasn't always
the nicest sister,

but I made good on that promise.

And in return,
you took my teacher,

my boyfriend, my future.

Do you know how hard
I worked for Juilliard?

What I sacrificed?

And you just took it away.

And for what?

What, because I'm better
than you?

Were.

You were better than me.

But I'm playing that stage
tonight.

Are you kidding?

You're the understudy.

We'll see what the scouts
from Juilliard say

when this understudy walks out
onstage in ten minutes' time.

Wait, you think
Juilliard scouts are here?

I know they are.
Alexis said...

Alexis is a moron.

Juilliard doesn't
send out scouts.

It's the best arts school
in the world.

It doesn't need to.

Oh, Jules, you thought
this would change things.

Stop messing with my head.

I don't need to mess
with your head,

because here's the thing:

You could walk
out there tonight and play

the greatest performance ever
seen in the history of music,

and it won't change a thing.

You'll still be Juliet Lowe,

and you'll still have
nowhere to go next year.

We're both failures, you and me,

but at least I have an excuse.

You're just mediocre.

Good luck out there.

I have something.
I have something.

I have something.

Juliet, it's time.

Give 'em hell, Juliet.

See you out there.

Juliet.

What's going on?

Juliet.

You're a star.

Yes.

I am.