Tonic Dominant (2000) - full transcript
Three days in the life of a young clarinetist (Fernando Alves Pinto), who is in love with a violinist (Vera Zimmerman), but can't get her attention. In the first day he feels alone and frail; in the second day what was supposed to be pleasant becomes a nightmare; in the third day he finally achieves fulfillment through music and helps a pianist (Vera Holtz) who is rehearsing for a concert. These three days correspond to a three movement sonata - the director (Lina Chamie) is a musician, so she imprinted a musical structure to her movie, with few dialogs and poetic images. It's a movie for music lovers.
I'm going to tell you a fable.
Amphion's fable.
Zeus, the king of gods,
fell in love with Antiope, a mortal.
He transformed himself into a satyr
and seduced Antiope.
Amphion was thus born.
Amphion grew up...
and learned music from Mercury
who gave him a flute.
Later on, Amphion became
the King of Tebas.
Tebas needed walls
against invaders.
Then Amphion went to the desert.
The desert was but sand and sun.
But when he started
playing his flute...
the grains of sand got together
forming rocks.
One over the other,
the rocks formed walls.
And the walls surrounded Tebas.
This fable is a metaphor.
It means that music creates life
even where there's only emptiness.
This metaphor means that music
sets harmony...
and order everywhere.
Beauty is a concept.
And beauty is sad.
Not sad in itself, but for
its fragility and uncertainty.
I spend hours and hours practicing
trying to improve...
seeking perfection.
Scales, notes, arpeggios...
are my day-to-day.
I'm a musician.
I believe in the notes,
in the music.
I'm a clarinetist.
The wind instruments
are a bit special.
Their sound comes
from inside you.
Well, you know every musician thinks
his instrument is the most beautiful.
Anyway, I'm going to practice
a bit of piano.
"BEAUTY IS A CONCEPT.
AND BEAUTY IS SAD.
NOT SAD IN ITSELF...
BUT FOR ITS FRAGILITY
AND UNCERTAINTY."
Give me the money
or I'll shoot you! Come on!
Hurry up!
Now get up, get up!
You keep playing.
Keep playing, you asshole!
Hello, speaking...
Hi, how are you?
Sure, I can help.
Right now?
All right, I'm coming.
Bye.
"TURNING PAGE"
No, no.
Tempo! Tempo!
Once again, please.
No!
More precision!
Again, please.
No!
More tension!
Again, please.
Is he the one to turn pages?
I'm glad you came.
Of course I'd come,
you called me...
Come up here, young man.
Are you experienced?
There's a technique to it!
He was a lawyer.
What?
A lawyer.
What?
A lawyer.
Oh, yes!
In 1923.
What?
In 1923.
Oh, yes!
He was... a lawyer.
- What?
- A lawyer.
- It's almost time.
- One minute!
Listen...
Today we'll put
technique aside a little.
I don't want perfect pauses
nor perfect tempo.
I don't want you to play
as if taking a picture of the score.
I want a painting.
Music must have
colors, tones, shadows...
it must have a soul!
Discipline, dedication
and practice are the bases...
but the truth of music
is way beyond.
That's why when you play
you need to give in...
and have the courage
to be carried away and believe...
believe in beauty!
Technique is a means, not an end.
I don't want you to make music.
I want you to be made by music.
Don't worry about mistakes,
at least not today.
A new violin?
How was your recital yesterday?
She's so beautiful...
Goodness! Silence is so fragile,
details are so cruel...
A mistake...
A mistake in music is terrifying.
Music can be
so generous and so harsh.
You must know
to choose your side...
But I can't.
I'm afraid of making a mistake.
I'll do it.
No.
No!
She won't be able to turn this page.
Too many notes.
A man cannot give up!
There's no choice. Courage!
Besides, except for wars, diseases
and ecological disasters...
all tragedy is imaginary!
A true hero can still act...
when all eyes are staring at him...
This page is mine!
BEWARE!
TURN! TURN!
You have to believe!
Music must have a soul!
"WHAT WE CAN
WE CANNOT
FROM ONE MOMENT
TO ANOTHER."
What we can, we cannot
from one moment to another
What we suffer, we revolve
in a swamp of mud, scum and ice
Not even at this time
of scum, mud and fear
we have clay or stones
Emotion plunges its wings
into this slime and grass
I know its jungle
Don't cut your veins
for your mistakes
and the mistakes
of this erratic place
we are not one
But you'll be all, suffering from
the same fear at the same mistake
With another scare
of scum and stone
In another swamp
of clay and darkness
What we can, we cannot
from one moment to another
"AMPHION'S FABLE"
"...Amphion builds in the desert
with the sound of his flute...
the rocks enchanted by music
move by themselves..."
Amphion arrives in the desert
Amphion amongst rocks like forgotten
fruits that refused to mature
Amphion as if drawing
precise circles in the sand
A purely spotless gesture,
he desert breathes, Amphion
It's a clear time
like the fountain and the fable
There nothing remained from the night
like grass between stones
It's a white, eager earth
like whitewash
There you can't put your sadness
on the shelf, like a book
His dried flute
At the desert sun
and the broken silence
His flute dried
Without the sweet earth of
water and sleep
Without love grains
brought by the wind
Chance strikes
Chance strikes
and makes the flute sound
The rocks enchanted by music
move by themselves
Tebas is built
When the flute sounded,
a time unfolded from time
Look, it's a bit tight here,
could you move your case?
I need to put mine
in here, okay?
I have an important solo today.
All right.
Let's begin, please.
Beginning of the second movement.
Try to remember what I said before.
No! No!
Please! Please.
I'll try to explain once again.
Imagine that in this passage
of the music...
the strings, you...
are the meadow...
a beautiful landscape,
an idyllic place...
where we can rest under
the shadow of a tree...
close our eyes and dream.
You are the dream...
the dream we're looking for
to comfort us...
where we want to lose ourselves.
Until the clarinet solo wakes us up.
Like a sad memory
that suddenly awakes us.
The solo is this memory.
Each note of this solo has to sound
like something lost...
but not in vain.
As if the sadness
of what we love and lose...
could turn into Amphion's rocks...
which enchanted by music
moved miraculously...
building in the desert
the most vivid of all dreams:
Life.
Let's try once again.
Measure 58, please.
I just...
I just wanted to say...
"CHANCE STRIKES"
Painters paint on canvas.
Composers paint on silence.
A small detail can suddenly
change everything.
Darkness shifts to light,
silence turns into music.
Music...
fragile, uncertain...
and wild of life.
Amphion's fable.
Zeus, the king of gods,
fell in love with Antiope, a mortal.
He transformed himself into a satyr
and seduced Antiope.
Amphion was thus born.
Amphion grew up...
and learned music from Mercury
who gave him a flute.
Later on, Amphion became
the King of Tebas.
Tebas needed walls
against invaders.
Then Amphion went to the desert.
The desert was but sand and sun.
But when he started
playing his flute...
the grains of sand got together
forming rocks.
One over the other,
the rocks formed walls.
And the walls surrounded Tebas.
This fable is a metaphor.
It means that music creates life
even where there's only emptiness.
This metaphor means that music
sets harmony...
and order everywhere.
Beauty is a concept.
And beauty is sad.
Not sad in itself, but for
its fragility and uncertainty.
I spend hours and hours practicing
trying to improve...
seeking perfection.
Scales, notes, arpeggios...
are my day-to-day.
I'm a musician.
I believe in the notes,
in the music.
I'm a clarinetist.
The wind instruments
are a bit special.
Their sound comes
from inside you.
Well, you know every musician thinks
his instrument is the most beautiful.
Anyway, I'm going to practice
a bit of piano.
"BEAUTY IS A CONCEPT.
AND BEAUTY IS SAD.
NOT SAD IN ITSELF...
BUT FOR ITS FRAGILITY
AND UNCERTAINTY."
Give me the money
or I'll shoot you! Come on!
Hurry up!
Now get up, get up!
You keep playing.
Keep playing, you asshole!
Hello, speaking...
Hi, how are you?
Sure, I can help.
Right now?
All right, I'm coming.
Bye.
"TURNING PAGE"
No, no.
Tempo! Tempo!
Once again, please.
No!
More precision!
Again, please.
No!
More tension!
Again, please.
Is he the one to turn pages?
I'm glad you came.
Of course I'd come,
you called me...
Come up here, young man.
Are you experienced?
There's a technique to it!
He was a lawyer.
What?
A lawyer.
What?
A lawyer.
Oh, yes!
In 1923.
What?
In 1923.
Oh, yes!
He was... a lawyer.
- What?
- A lawyer.
- It's almost time.
- One minute!
Listen...
Today we'll put
technique aside a little.
I don't want perfect pauses
nor perfect tempo.
I don't want you to play
as if taking a picture of the score.
I want a painting.
Music must have
colors, tones, shadows...
it must have a soul!
Discipline, dedication
and practice are the bases...
but the truth of music
is way beyond.
That's why when you play
you need to give in...
and have the courage
to be carried away and believe...
believe in beauty!
Technique is a means, not an end.
I don't want you to make music.
I want you to be made by music.
Don't worry about mistakes,
at least not today.
A new violin?
How was your recital yesterday?
She's so beautiful...
Goodness! Silence is so fragile,
details are so cruel...
A mistake...
A mistake in music is terrifying.
Music can be
so generous and so harsh.
You must know
to choose your side...
But I can't.
I'm afraid of making a mistake.
I'll do it.
No.
No!
She won't be able to turn this page.
Too many notes.
A man cannot give up!
There's no choice. Courage!
Besides, except for wars, diseases
and ecological disasters...
all tragedy is imaginary!
A true hero can still act...
when all eyes are staring at him...
This page is mine!
BEWARE!
TURN! TURN!
You have to believe!
Music must have a soul!
"WHAT WE CAN
WE CANNOT
FROM ONE MOMENT
TO ANOTHER."
What we can, we cannot
from one moment to another
What we suffer, we revolve
in a swamp of mud, scum and ice
Not even at this time
of scum, mud and fear
we have clay or stones
Emotion plunges its wings
into this slime and grass
I know its jungle
Don't cut your veins
for your mistakes
and the mistakes
of this erratic place
we are not one
But you'll be all, suffering from
the same fear at the same mistake
With another scare
of scum and stone
In another swamp
of clay and darkness
What we can, we cannot
from one moment to another
"AMPHION'S FABLE"
"...Amphion builds in the desert
with the sound of his flute...
the rocks enchanted by music
move by themselves..."
Amphion arrives in the desert
Amphion amongst rocks like forgotten
fruits that refused to mature
Amphion as if drawing
precise circles in the sand
A purely spotless gesture,
he desert breathes, Amphion
It's a clear time
like the fountain and the fable
There nothing remained from the night
like grass between stones
It's a white, eager earth
like whitewash
There you can't put your sadness
on the shelf, like a book
His dried flute
At the desert sun
and the broken silence
His flute dried
Without the sweet earth of
water and sleep
Without love grains
brought by the wind
Chance strikes
Chance strikes
and makes the flute sound
The rocks enchanted by music
move by themselves
Tebas is built
When the flute sounded,
a time unfolded from time
Look, it's a bit tight here,
could you move your case?
I need to put mine
in here, okay?
I have an important solo today.
All right.
Let's begin, please.
Beginning of the second movement.
Try to remember what I said before.
No! No!
Please! Please.
I'll try to explain once again.
Imagine that in this passage
of the music...
the strings, you...
are the meadow...
a beautiful landscape,
an idyllic place...
where we can rest under
the shadow of a tree...
close our eyes and dream.
You are the dream...
the dream we're looking for
to comfort us...
where we want to lose ourselves.
Until the clarinet solo wakes us up.
Like a sad memory
that suddenly awakes us.
The solo is this memory.
Each note of this solo has to sound
like something lost...
but not in vain.
As if the sadness
of what we love and lose...
could turn into Amphion's rocks...
which enchanted by music
moved miraculously...
building in the desert
the most vivid of all dreams:
Life.
Let's try once again.
Measure 58, please.
I just...
I just wanted to say...
"CHANCE STRIKES"
Painters paint on canvas.
Composers paint on silence.
A small detail can suddenly
change everything.
Darkness shifts to light,
silence turns into music.
Music...
fragile, uncertain...
and wild of life.