The Concert

The Concert

Amazon

Once the renowned conductor of the Bolshoi orchestra, now a mere cleaning man at the Bolshoi, Andrei Filipov learns by accident that the Chatelet Theater in Paris has invited the Bolshoi orchestra to play there. He decides to gather together his former musicians and perform in Paris in the place of the current Bolshoi orchestra.
THE CONCERT
Hold the balance.
Bassoon, quieter. Quieter.
-Yeah.
-Muffin, it’s me.
I told you, never call me at work!
Andrey, please!
I need 20 more people for the crowd.
For this meeting. Can you imagine that?
They were drawn over to the funeral
of that supermarket director.
Filipov.
I told you, it’s the wrong number.
Andrey Semyonovich Filipov.
I’ve forbidden you from attending
the orchestra rehearsals.
-You’re a cleaner.
-I know.
I’m sorry, Leonid Dmitrievich.
But you promised.
No, no, no.
Here. Have a look.
Is this how you love
our famous Bolshoi Theater?
How can I trust you?
We’ll talk about the orchestra
after it’s clean here.
It will be clean here.
INVITATION
MESSAGE DELETED!
Done. The letter has been deleted
and never came.
Go on, Goliath!
Let Bill Gates look for it.
I should get the job at Genkin’s wedding,
but he wants a thousand guests.
-Genkin is a gangster.
-And who’s not?
They wear nice clothes
and send their kids to study in London.
So they’re gangsters, so what?
What’s it to you?
But a thousand guests!
Genkin barely knows 200 people,
so he asked me to gather at least 800.
Just think of it, Muffin.
We’ll get crazy money,
and we’ll finally be able
to buy a plot of land in the country!
I’ll set up a veggie patch.
We won’t spend big money on veggies.
My pension was raised by 100 rubles,
but the flat charges flew up by 300.
Do you know how much they wanted
for potatoes at the market yesterday?
Thirty rubles per kilo!
We should sell the piano.
No, we shouldn’t sell the piano.
This idiot Genkin
wants to have 500 more guests
than Makarov had.
He wants to prove
that he’s got bigger balls.
Ira.
You’ll help me, won’t you, Muffin?
Will you make some calls?
Oh.
-Ira.
-Yeah, what’s up, Sasha?
I’ve found people. It’s set.
Thank you, dear! You’re a genius.
My savior.
Yeah. Good. Wait. No.
Just a second. You said there would be 19.
Oh.
Okay, I see. Bye.
Bye.
Andrey, my honey.
I’m sorry. I know you’re dead tired,
but I need…
one more person today.
I’ll come.
Go get dressed.
COMMUNIST PARTY!
THE VICTORY OF COMMUNISM!
Hurrah! Forward with the party!
The Communist Party is with us!
Every day we hear promises.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!
Didn’t you ask for thirty?
Here’s your thirty.
Everyone has come.
So pay for thirty people.
Listen, Ira, I offer you a lump sum.
Each gets 500 rubles,
and a bonus of 100 rubles,
but next Sunday,
should all of them come.
Six hundred rubles for two days, agreed?
No way, Gavrilov. No way.
Every Sunday it’s the same thing.
The rate is 400 rubles per person
per meeting. That’s it.
Don’t you believe in us?
I have never believed.
Hit the road,
you and your party!
You pay me!
You owe me 12,000.
Give me the money right now.
Come on, Andrey!
Just a small shot.
Nothing will happen to you.
Go ahead, Andrey! You’re our bandmaster.
Our leader, aren’t you?
-No.
-Didn’t you hear?
You come with me.
Read it.
For the attention
of Sir Leonid Venichenko,
Director of the Bolshoi Theater.
“Dear Sir Venichenko,
while viewing your orchestra web page,
I wondered if it would be possible
for you to give a concert
in two weeks, on Saturday, June 13.
The Los Angeles Philharmonic,
which was due to go on tour in France,
has just canceled the tour.
We’d be greatly honored
to invite you
in place of the LA orchestra,
so that our audience can enjoy
an unforgettable night of music.
Consider this an official invitation.
I suggest we have a telephone call
the day after tomorrow
at 4:00 p.m., Moscow time.
My best blah-blah-blah to you.
Olivier Morne Duplessis,
Director of Châtelet Theater.”
It’s written in Russian.
It’s clearly a prank.
Look, the signature, the seal,
and the email address are in French.
The Châtelet Theater.
-So?
-We’ll go instead of them.
To Paris, Sasha.
This is Châtelet, a dreamy dream.
The Bolshoi Theater Orchestra in Paris,
in Châtelet.
Are you nuts?
You want to fill in for the Bolshoi?
Yes, they’re good for nothing.
We’re better.
Get rid of it before we’re put in jail.
None of us has practiced in 30 years.
We’re tramps.
-Where will you find a full orchestra?
-To the right.
Nowhere to rehearse.
Not a penny to organize everything.
No time to gather a solid orchestra.
Gather 80 musicians in two weeks?
You must be crazy.
Should we pick up a ballet as well?
To the right.
Fifty-five musicians.
We only need 55 musicians.
Stop here. We’ve arrived.
MOSCOW DIVISION OF
RF COMMUNIST PARTY
Whatever you’re up to,
they’ll call Leonid tomorrow afternoon,
-and the show is over.
-It’s not.
-Not if we call before that.
-What?
The Communist Party? Are you kidding?
Ivan Gavrilov.
A KGB officer. Have you lost it?
What are we doing here?
They know each other well.
Ivan is the best manager in Moscow.
He speaks French better than Molière.
-No doubt, since Molière is dead.
-He’s the one we need.
He’s ruined your life.
-He’s broken my life.
-He only executed orders.
It’s not true.
He stepped on the stage
during Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto,
in front of all those people,
and stopped the concert
just to humiliate you.
He enjoyed the moment like a devil.
FIRST SECRETARY
I’m not going in there.
It’s impossible to escape from the trap
of communist dictatorship twice.
My friend,
do you want to play the cello again
or not?
Or will you drive an ambulance
for the rest of your life?
Ivan Gavrilov owes us a concert.
The biggest concert.
Do you remember the role
of an orchestra manager?
Which orchestra? Where’s your hello?
Which orchestra?
Hello. Like the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra,
just not as big.
What’s this rubbish?
Is it the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra
or not?
Yes and no. Both, in a way.
We’re looking for a concert manager.
We were invited to perform abroad.
We? Who’s “we”?
That damn orchestra
that you destroyed 30 years ago, bastard.
Do you remember how many tours
you robbed us of? You wretch!
Shitbags, 30 years ago you were ready
to seek asylum, even in Honduras.
Yeah, you were ready to smear
your motherland, and you did it.
With western media.
The country that raised you
like a son,
nourished and cherished you.
I had some information.
The motherland kicked us out.
You kicked us out.
Son of a bitch. Piece of shit.
What are you doing?
Wretched driver.
Because of you,
I became an ambulance driver.
Because of you,
my wife took the kids and left me.
Because of me?
It’s because of your bitchy character,
when you didn’t want
to follow them to Israel.
I know everything.
Cool off!
Cool off!
Sasha.
Ivan, we’re here to talk to you
about Paris.
Châtelet Theater, a concert in Paris.
We should reply to them
by tomorrow afternoon.
What Paris?
The Bolshoi Theater Orchestra.
Right now, they’re just a group
of tear-jerking fiddlers.
You know that.
Just imagine what the French media
will write about them.
-Did you say Paris?
-Yes.
They’ll say Russian orchestras are no good
and their excellence is long gone.
Can we Russians let that happen?
Paris…
Why me?
You’ll negotiate everything,
just like in the good old days.
You’ve always been the best manager
the Bolshoi has ever had.
Paris?
I’m in.
Did you see his eyes? He was grinning.
He’s a lying rat. Don’t trust him.
He’ll cheat us again.
Put the fax back where it belongs.
I saw his eyes sparkle.
He’s willing to do it.
PARIS
How many seats are there in Châtelet?
Two thousand.
I found it on the Internet.
Two thousand?
Andrey, I’ll divorce you…
if you don’t go.
Prove to me that you’re still a maestro
and that you’ll play that damn concerto
to the end.
Thirty years.
I’ve been waiting for this
for 30 years.
COMPOSITIONS FOR THE VIOLIN
CONCERTO
Enemies of the people.
Curtain down!
Does this phone work?
I call my family in Israel twice a week,
so I need it to work.
How’s that? You have no right.
You don’t pay for calls.
This phone belongs to the state,
to the people.
Should I communicate with gestures?
Hush. Be quick.
-What?
-Sasha.
-Yes, hello?
-Hello, dear young lady!
My respects. How you do you?
It’s Mr. Comrade Gavrilov speaking,
the Director of the Bolshoi.
I would like to cordially converse
with M. Duplessis.
Could you introduce me, please?
What? Wait one minute,
I’ll check if he’s here.
One minute? I’m calling from Moscow!
One minute.
Mr. Gavrilov, how lovely!
How are you, my friend?
Wunderbar!
Hugely well, thank you.
I’m sorry. I hadn’t been informed
you were the Bolshoi’s director again.
The fax would have been sent to you.
No terrible deal!
Don’t pardon yourself!
Mr. Duplessis,
I’m not calling you from my office.
We have problems
with post and telecommunications.
Ivan, don’t shout,
I can hear you perfectly.
Excuse me.
I will ring you each time.
-It’s more certain.
-All right.
I nevertheless give you
my walking phone number.
-Okay.
-Do you have a writing handy?
Yes! Go ahead.
Zero.
Zero again.
Seven, 910… 46… 18… 830.
All right.
Very well. So, Ivan, about our concert,
do you think it would be feasible?
It all depends
on the arrangement and conditions.
We would have to cancel
a very lucrative concert.
But your website indicates
that you have no bookings.
It’s a private concert.
Very private.
For the king of gas, East of Russia.
It’s his mistress’ birthday.
Listen, I suggest this:
I’m going to send you today
a memorandum of entente cordiale
with our terms.
If it satisfies you,
we could consider
sealing our signatures rapidly.
All right. I’m waiting for your proposal.
Hurry up, it’s in two weeks!
And what about the program?
-The program?
-Yes.
Yes. The program.
The program!
Idiots, they’re asking about the program.
Tchaikovsky.
Hello, Ivan?
Can you hear me?
We have Tchaikovsky.
-The Violin Concerto.
-I can’t hear you!
Here we go again.
Did you say Tchaikovsky?
Tchaikovsky.
The Violin Concerto.
I can’t hear you. Hello? Ivan?
Send me your proposal.
Well done!
You’ve got me going!
Ivan, you were brilliant.
You’re still in good shape.
You know,
bargaining is like riding a bicycle.
You never forget it.
What did he say?
Did he agree?
We’re holding them by the balls.
EXPENSES
Two thousand dollars to every musician.
I’ve doubled the rates.
I’m telling you, this is…
This is a wedding. Yeah.
A daily allowance, naturally.
Thirty per day.
In euros.
Of course, you’ll have free meals.
Four thousand to Andrey.
The program.
Tchaikovsky’s Concerto.
And after that?
Tchaikovsky’s Serenade.
-Prokofiev’s Concerto No. 1.
-Okay.
All right, kisses, bye.
Good. Flights and insurance
are to be paid in advance by Paris.
Before, the state provided it for you
through our embassy, now squat.
Next, the itinerary.
First day is the arrival,
a luxurious dinner
in the famous restaurant the Trou Normand.
The second day
is a rehearsal with the musicians.
In the evening, as appropriate
for any tour in Paris,
is a boat ride on the river.
The concert is on the third day.
Good? Are you okay with that?
Good. Then it’s a deal.
Is everything okay?
The wedding, I’ve pulled it off.
One thousand invitees.
We’ll have our veggie patch.
Ira, sugar?
-Just a moment.
-I’ll help you.
Ivan, what about a hotel in Paris?
He wants to perform Tchaikovsky.
I know. You’ll help him.
-Me?
-Yes, you.
Go now.
I’ll insist on the Paris Lumière hotel.
Close to the Champs-Élysées.
This is the best hotel.
Three stars.
Now, the most important thing.
Who will perform the solo?
I want Anne-Marie Jacquet
to perform the solo.
Anne-Marie Jacquet? Are you kidding?
She’s a star.
Great! Wonderful!
We’re stars too. Jacquet, Jacquet.
No one but Anne-Marie Jacquet. Period.
Are we asking for too much?
You should be picky and capricious.
If you want to look big.
And professional.
Is that really the net total?
It looks like they kept
their pre-Perestroika wages.
It’s probably due to your friendship
with Mr. Gavrilov. It’s a favor.
Perhaps.
Or it’s a trap.
We need this concert, Mr. Duplessis.
At the last general meeting,
we promised to get back on our feet
with a prestigious, lucrative concert.
The Los Angeles Philharmonic is gone now,
but not our one-million-euro debt.
Twice the figure we reported.
Stop bugging me about that!
What else do they want?
Three days off in Paris.
Very unusual requirements:
boat trip along the river,
and the Trou Normand.
-Do you know this restaurant?
-No.
Screw them! No!
-We’ll never bridge the gap.
-Still way cheaper than the LA Phil.
Three days off, a restaurant…
They probably think
they have to show off the Russian soul!
And what about Mrs. Anne-Marie Jacquet?
-How high is her fee?
-Very high.
But her fee, plus the agent, expenses,
insurance, orchestra,
and their little whims:
in total, it’s cheaper.
We get a 55 percent margin.
And without Mrs. Jacquet,
the margin is 75 percent.
But without her,
no Bolshoi and no concert.
Without her, they are not coming, stupid!
They’re bugging me!
Call her agent.
I understand, Olivier,
but there isn’t much I can do.
The answer is no. Definitely.
I’m sorry too. Good luck. Bye.
We’re off in 45 minutes.
-Who was it?
-Nobody.
An interview for a Brazilian magazine.
“Why aren’t you married?”,
that kind of thing.
Did they ask about Tchaikovsky?
Tchaikovsky? No.
So why did I hear,
“She doesn’t play Tchaikovsky”?
No.
I mean yes, they asked.
What are you doing?
Last-call return.
It was Duplessis.
Châtelet Theater.
Tchaikovsky’s Concerto.
In two weeks. Impossible.
Between Madrid and Chicago.
At such late notice. Unprofessional.
Which orchestra?
The Bolshoi.
What? The Bolshoi, and you said no?
You’ve never played Tchaikovsky,
it’s between Madrid and Chicago.
It’s unwise.
There was no fresh high-fiber bread.
We’ll get the honey tomorrow.
Guylène. Seriously?
True, playing Tchaikovsky
always scared me.
But my dream is to play his Concerto
with the Bolshoi.
You know it, Guylène.
An unknown conductor,
an orchestra in decline…
It’s too great a risk.
Who is the conductor?
See, I don’t even remember.
Andrey Filipo Maratov?
Something like that.
Andrey Filipov?
Yes.
Does it ring a bell?
Are you kidding?
Does it ring a bell?
The Maestro, Guylène. The Maestro.
He’s a legend. Tchaikovsky, with him?
-No hesitation.
-He hasn’t conducted for 30 years.
Call Duplessis.
I accept, whatever the terms.
Is that clear?
THE WONDERFUL
ANNE-MARIE JACQUET
Oh, my God!
Rivka, look who’s come!
This is the man who sent Brezhnev to hell!
-Andrey Filipov.
-How are your lips?
How’s your asthma?
He refuses treatment and keeps coughing.
I play better during attacks.
Come in.
Are there synagogues in Paris yet?
Aren’t they anti-Jewish?
There are more synagogues than churches.
Vitya, there’s a synagogue
on every street. No churches.
French Catholics don’t all believe in God.
They’ve set up Qadesh
in front of Notre Dame.
The exterior of the cathedral is Jewish,
the interior is Catholic.
Half Catholic, half Jewish.
Will you go, Vitya?
For your sake, Andrey.
You’re our righteous man.
I’ll take Moses with me.
He’s our son,
the Louis Armstrong of classical music.
Say nothing. He’s better than his father.
-God bless you!
-Amen.
Andrey! Sasha!
Long time no see!
MUSEUM
-Sasha!
-Nadya!
Go away, Andrey! You bring misfortune.
Violin!
Thank you.
Best wishes. Congratulations.
Please, take your seat at table 13.
Hi.
Hey, who’s invited you?
It’s a closed party.
Bad news.
Paris canceled the advance transfer
for air tickets.
They’ll reimburse expenses upon arrival.
-Why?
-God knows. Times have changed.
All preliminary expenses
should be covered by the Bolshoi.
Give me vodka.
Hey, you’re lying.
Confess that you’ve set it up.
You don’t want our concert to take place.
Go ahead, find a way out.
-Which way out, I wonder?
-Some sponsor, don’t you know?
Wait for a suitcase near a luxury car.
An oligarch.
They buy soccer clubs now.
They don’t give a damn about music,
it doesn’t pay anymore.
They just download it for free.
Here’s the deal, Gavrilov!
Listen to me.
Thirty years ago,
when you dropped a bombshell
during my husband’s concert,
when you ruined his life
and doomed him to booze,
when because of you
we lost two of our best friends,
I didn’t say a word.
I wish I had.
Now shut up and don’t touch the music.
Otherwise I’ll play billiards
with your balls.
Okay, I’m calm.
You’ll find a sponsor for them
and happily take them to Paris.
If this tour goes bad,
you’d better stay
and seek political asylum there,
because here
your Sunday gatherings
will become solos with no audience,
because no one in this damn city
will provide you with the crowd.
I promise you that. Clear?
Quiet!
Quiet, please.
Ladies and gentlemen,
my old, very old,
good, very good friends,
Mr. Minister,
gentlemen, members of the house.
Let me introduce to you
the tsar of gas,
the king of cobalt,
one of the most brilliant jewels
in our beautiful Russia,
my friend, the best cellist
on the planet.
Piotr Tretyakin!
Hurrah!
Clap your hands.
Go ahead, Petya!
Yeah? Yes, Ivan Gavrilov.
Yes. Yes.
Yes.
Oh my!
Figure it out!
No Trou Normand, no concert!
I want the Trou…
Normand!
He hung up on me.
Because of your Trou Normand.
No! Not my fault. It doesn’t exist.
Not at the place they indicated.
There is a restaurant at this address.
We just have to ask the owner
to change its name for one night. Boom.
Call Gavrilov!
We accept all his terms.
Make him sign
and send his fucking contract!
One week until the concert.
Launch the billboards,
the media campaign and the TV promotion.
We’ll have Anne-Marie Jacquet.
She gave her consent, but…
Here, gentlemen. It’s an honor for me.
See, Mom,
the cello lessons weren’t wasted.
You play like a fiddler.
Buy a soccer club.
We’re endlessly grateful to you,
Mr. Tretyakin.
I hope we’ll keep in touch.
Dear Mommy, I kiss your hands.
I’ll see you off.
Not at all.
It’s me who should be thankful.
I’ll send my driver for the score.
I’m flattered by the opportunity
to play in your orchestra.
And frankly speaking, I’m ready.
Business is nothing, just a pastime.
While music, as you can see,
is everything to me.
I’m a musician,
not a specialist in finances!
Turn back.
We’ll return this check immediately.
It’s ridiculous!
We’ll be a laughing stock.
Calm down, Andrey.
We’ve got the orchestra,
we’ve got Anne-Marie Jacquet,
and we have flights.
-And a worthless cellist.
-I have good news and bad news.
What did you say?
I said we’ve got good news and bad news.
First comes the bad news.
To travel to France, you need a visa.
Most musicians don’t even have
an international passport.
Three weeks to obtain a passport.
One week for a visa.
Great! You’re saying this now.
What’s the good news?
We got the Trou Normand!
Fifty-five passports with visas
for you, Maestro.
Fifty-six in total with Ivan.
I can do 60, and more.
Names can be inserted on the spot,
during the registration.
Can you really do it in a day?
Not a problem.
Whatever you want.
But it’ll cost you.
How much? We don’t have deep pockets.
We’re ordinary people.
We’ll pay. Never mind.
Okay. For passports, you need new photos.
Each of you, please.
Hold on, Vasily.
There’s another thing.
What is it, Maestro?
We’re a little short of instruments.
Many of us have had to sell them
over the years,
along with suits
and concert shoes.
All right, I’ve got friends in Paris,
we’ll find whatever you need.
Andrey, look,
my granny
used to say these wise words:
“The sun goes up
in the morning, not at night.”
In the morning, do you get it?
Which granny?
I’ll explain.
It’s nighttime right now.
Have some patience.
Wait till we’re in Paris.
Is that clear?
Vitya, take care of Moses.
Don’t sleep with an open window.
Please, Mom, I’m 35.
Shalom Aleichem to everybody!
Shalom!
Once you arrive, hang the trousers neatly
right away. Got it?
You’ll stay in a good hotel.
There should be an iron in every room.
And have your shoes brushed.
I don’t want you to look like a vagabond.
You hear me?
So, where’s the bus?
Be patient. Patient.
They’re 45 minutes late.
Is this how it’s going to end?
You’re happy, aren’t you?
Did you pay them?
Of course I did.
Then I understand
why they’re not here. Bravo!
The best manager in Moscow!
Should we call a taxi?
How many of us are there?
A taxi? I have no money for taxis.
No worries. We still have plenty of time.
7 KM TO SHEREMETYEVO AIRPORT
Are they all flying to Paris?
Move on, comrades. Be quick.
Thank you, dear.
Have your photos ready.
Don’t hurry. Pay attention.
Don’t stand still.
Take your photo and move aside.
Next one. Come on.
Where’s your photo?
Go, go.
Next one.
Next.
Here.
Going to France, all of you?
Maybe a Moroccan visa?
Just ten dollars.
I don’t know anyone in Morocco.
-Dad, let’s get it just in case.
-I said no.
Okay.
Thank you.
Hey, hottie.
Want a manicure?
Let me read your palm.
Yulia, do as you’re told.
Come on. Read the contract.
Yes, this is clause number one.
-Lady.
-He’s with us.
-Thank you.
-Come along.
This one is with us.
Mr. Duplessis?
Not yet. I’m there. All good.
The plane just landed.
Bolshoi?
Hello, Mr. Filipov.
Welcome to Paris.
What an honor! Mrs. Filipov.
No!
Please, Mr. Duplessis,
this gentleman isn’t Mr. Filipov.
I’m not Mr. Duplessis.
How do you do? Ivan Gavrilov. Overwhelmed.
This is Mr. Tretyakin,
and here is…
Mr. Filipov.
Andrey Filipov, Olivier Duplessis.
I’m not Mr. Duplessis,
I am Jean-Paul Carrère.
Mr. Duplessis sends his warmest greetings.
Where is Mr. Duplessis?
Where is the orchestra?
You have to understand
that we’ve been travelling for two weeks.
All of us are extremely exhausted.
-I see.
-No, you don’t see anything.
Let’s route to the hotel!
Of course.
Sir!
Wait!
Wait!
Tomorrow: rehearsal.
In the evening:
Mr. Filipov will have a one-on-one dinner
with Anne-Marie Jacquet.
At her request.
And finally, later in the night,
we booked the best boat trip
along the river Seine
for about 140 minutes.
-And the Trou Normand?
-Tonight.
We booked the whole restaurant for you.
You pitiful swindler.
-Give us our money right here.
-What’s he saying?
We demand to be paid half
of the sum right now.
No deductions.
We want some booze.
They want their own travel expenses.
Calm down!
No problem. The payments will be made
to each of you tomorrow morning.
Understand!
Tonight, you won’t need any money!
You’re all invited to the Trou Normand
in half an hour.
Mr. Gavrilov, explain it to them!
If I were you, I’d pay right now!
Attention, please.
Our young friend
has heard and understood us,
and here’s our money.
Hurrah!
Wait!
You have to sign a receipt!
One by one. Form a line, please!
Strictly one by one.
Give it to me!
Wait! One by one!
It’s 100 euros each.
Get out of here.
Rehearsal, tomorrow morning!
The bus leaves at 10:00.
Don’t be late.
Andrey?
Yes. It’s me.
My God!
Guylène?
It’s…
I am happiness to see you.
How are you?
You not changed.
Yeah, right. Sit down.
Andrey. I hope you’re not here
to talk with her.
Why you tell that? Of course not.
Are you sure?
Look me in the eye.
I only come for concert.
She has her own life.
She’s grown up now.
I don’t want any drama.
It was hard enough.
Guylène.
I will never does that.
Who do you think…?
You think… me? Never.
Good. I have been clear.
We understand each other.
Don’t we, Andrey?
Good night.
Good night.
FRENCH EMBASSY
Excuse me, sir.
Did you catch the others?
They’ve all gone.
To the Trou Normand? On their own?
I’m not sure. Probably. They left on foot.
-Yeah.
-Ready? I’m hungry as a hunter.
Andrey, do you really want to play
Tchaikovsky’s Serenade
and Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1?
Don’t you hate him?
We’ll play just the Tchaikovsky concerto,
that’s all.
I don’t care about whatever
serenade or Prokofiev.
But Châtelet…
Oh, did you buy shoes?
Let me see.
What’s this?
-Do you have all her albums here?
-Yes, including the very first one.
And all the newspaper cuttings
I managed to find.
Jesus Christ! Are you her fan or…
What’s up between you and Ira?
Sasha, just think.
How old is she, do you think?
Who? Anne-Marie Jacquet?
About twenty-six.
Have a closer look.
Twenty-nine.
What happened 29 years ago?
Who knows…
No.
Oh, no, God damn it! Don’t say…
she is…
No.
Yes. Well done.
You’ve figured it out.
It’s her.
FRENCH COMMUNIST PARTY
Good evening, sir.
Good evening, sir.
But are we exactly by
-the Trou Normand?
-The Trou Normand.
Absolutely! It’s here.
And you?
Are you…
Are you the Bolshoi?
Don’t disturb yourself,
the others won’t be long.
Walking from district the eighth.
The eighth! Very nice district.
Has Comrade Maurice
-arrived?
-Maurice?
No, he’s not arrived.
-No?
-Shall we proceed?
Thank you very much.
You’re welcome. Please have a seat.
Here, or here. Wherever you wish.
-There?
-Here.
Good.
Jessica? Let’s get started!
Good luck!
Here you go.
Come on!
Yeah!
I told you. It’s cheaper here
than in McDonald’s in Moscow.
I took ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise,
ten sachets of each.
Eat. It’s free here.
Ivan is waiting for us at Trou Normand.
I won’t sit at the same table
as a KGB officer.
Does Ira know anything about her?
-About Anne-Marie Jacquet?
-Yeah.
It’s a secret.
Have you ever written to her?
Is Anne-Marie unaware as well?
Andrey, you only came here
to conduct the orchestra.
Just to conduct. Tchaikovsky.
Andrey, nothing but Tchaikovsky.
Till the end.
Till the end.
So, what shall we do?
-Shall we keep on waiting?
-No, you can engage the meal.
I have very hungry.
We have very hungry too.
Is everything okay, Muffin?
You sound a little depressed.
No, I’m fine, darling.
Just I miss you, that’s it.
I miss you too, Muffin.
Have a good sleep.
You need a good rest.
Ira, I’m…
I won’t manage it.
I wish you were here.
I’m with you, Muffin.
You’ll pull it off. I believe in you.
Now get some sleep.
Hang up, these calls are expensive.
I love you.
Call me after the concert,
and have a good rehearsal tomorrow.
-Kisses, bye.
-Kisses.
Ivan!
Momo!
-Momo!
-Ivan!
Momo!
You’re late. Where were you?
Sorry, Ivan, I just had
a never-ending party meeting.
I’m so happy to see you!
What happened to the Trou Normand?
It’s another cuisine, Momo.
We lost members, we had to sell.
Soon we’ll have to sell the building too.
There are more offices than members!
We can’t even pay the cleaners.
Let’s go to a French bar, shall we?
A real French bar,
where we can have a debate.
It’s time to change everything.
To put the Communists back
to power in France
and run the world,
lead the way.
Are you ready?
RUSSIAN TV CHANNEL 1
Good morning.
Maestro! Mr. Filipov,
what a pleasure to welcome you here!
We are sold out!
Your French admirers have responded.
Maestro, they never forgot about you.
Within a few hours,
all the tickets were gone.
Isn’t that wonderful?
Thank you very much.
Olivier Morne Duplessis, at your service.
And eternally grateful.
Thank you. Very much.
Is he fucking joking?
Why repeat “Bolshoi”?
I know who they are.
“Bolshoi” also means big, much.
He’s saying, “Thank you very much.”
Thank you bolshoi too!
Could he let go of my hand?
Can we fill this place completely?
Don’t worry. We still have 1,000 members.
One percent at the last elections.
Almost two percent.
That is 44 million voters
divided by–
We’re going to put that here, okay?
What is it?
The flag, the standard,
of the party convention in Moscow.
In 1966.
Do you remember the elections, Momo?
We had a hundred percent of the vote.
A hundred percent!
A historical moment.
A people united for the same cause.
You can’t forget such an event.
A hundred percent.
Nobody has done better.
Oh, I am late!
I have to accelerate.
Keep it, Momo.
Keep it.
Some more. Closer.
Backwards. More.
Move.
Mr. Duplessis, please, pay me back.
They froze my credit card.
I must bank a check today
before 4:00 p.m.
Calm down, Carrère.
Everything in its own time.
Now is the time!
I saved them yesterday!
They flocked to a Russian restaurant,
not the Trou Normand.
I had to pay the bill. 1,536 euros.
At 6:00 am.
Just alcohol. They didn’t eat anything.
I wrote a rubber check.
So, you saved them.
And where are they?
Can you hear any music?
An unpublished Tchaikovsky:
“Silence for Violin and Orchestra.”
There is a misunderstanding.
Or a translation issue.
Is it an orchestra or a quartet?
Where is your orchestra?
I am so glad to meet you!
Don’t disturb yourself.
They will all be here very immediately.
They are not French.
Or German. Far from it.
For Russian people, it is a polite thing
to be a bit late.
Try to understand,
and prove your courtesy.
-Ivan Gavrilov?
-Yes.
You are late!
And your whole spassiba bolshoi too!
Why did I pick Russians?
I could have had…
Where are all of them? It’s your fault,
damn it. Where’s the orchestra?
It’s caviar. Taste it.
How much?
Two hundred euros.
Friendly price.
More expensive than the supermarket?
No, thanks.
But more good?
No.
-Caviar is no longer in demand.
-Will you teach me to make money?
Dad, we could have bought
cheap Chinese cell phones
and sold them in an hour…
Dear Anne-Marie,
what a pleasure to see you!
Me too!
Here is our Maestro.
Andrey Filipov.
Anne-Marie Jacquet.
Good morning.
Hello.
I have laid you warmly with this kiss.
We are running a bit late,
nothing serious.
The famous Russian soul.
Something like that.
-Where shall we put it?
-Over there. Do like them.
Okay, boss. Igor and Yura, move on.
Jean-Paul?
Can someone bring Jean-Paul here, please?
Why didn’t you bring Chinese phones,
if you’re so smart?
I did.
Here it is.
I gave one to each musician
to pass through customs.
To everyone except Andrey, Sasha and Ivan.
I didn’t want them to know.
Fifty phones with a hacked
Korean SIM, free calls around the globe.
This is our golden goose, Dad.
Son, where did you learn to do business?
You’re a genius. So much like me.
So much.
We’re rich.
Just one problem, Dad.
They don’t want to give back those phones.
Who? How?
-Idiot, call them!
-They don’t pick up.
Guylène?
Don’t they have cell phones?
They might be stuck in traffic.
There’s no one at the hotel.
We need to get out of it.
How can I get out?
Play Tchaikovsky with three instruments?
Ridiculous. How long should I wait?
Don’t stop.
It’s wonderful.
What is your name?
Aleksandr Abramovich Grosman.
Have sorry–
It’s very much compliment for me.
Honestly, I’m not that good.
It’s…
greatly difficult for me.
Me the most not good in orchestra.
Are you kidding?
It’s true.
Maestro tells me:
“Rehearse, rehearse, Sasha.”
Bad.
The others never rehearse.
Me, da.
Me rehearse a lot
for better the level.
It’s true a lot.
I don’t rehearse
because people put cameras, don’t they?
I think rehearsing kills spontaneity.
No rehearsal? At all?
Not rehearsal.
We ask forgiveness to you.
You come for nothing.
For us, spontaneity important.
Music, spontaneity.
Do you mean that your technique
is perfect?
You think we pretentious.
Not technique.
Soul.
Spirit.
You ask where are musicians.
They are learning.
They seeking inspiration in Paris.
City of Light.
In museums. Louvre.
Musée Rodin. Centre Pompidou.
-Right, Sasha?
-Excuse!
Andrey!
These are my relatives from Armavir.
One instrument is lacking.
The bassoon.
We wanted to borrow it,
but the deal went south.
The police have their nose in everything.
Here’s the socket.
Enough. Call Duplessis.
Here you are, doll. Me not steal.
How did you do that?
Do what?
Those arpeggios and harmonics.
With my hand.
What fingering technique?
I have never seen that.
Where did you study?
Andrey!
What is this doll talking about?
What did she say?
Forgive me.
I am…
so sorry.
Sorry for the drama.
No problems.
Are we still having dinner tonight?
Are you available?
Yes. Isn’t it?
See you there at 8.
You have no broadcasting rights.
Do you understand the word “right”?
I’m the orchestra’s sponsor.
Without me, there’s no orchestra.
Do you understand the word “orchestra”?
-Please be respectful.
-Who are you?
The Director General of the Châtelet,
Olivier Morne Duplessis.
Never heard of you.
We have an exclusive contract
with France Télévisions.
That’s your problem. I already sold
the concert to a Russian network.
Fifty million viewers.
The Russian president,
a personal friend,
will watch the live satellite broadcast.
He’s invited to my dacha.
Do you want the gas
to Western Europe turned off?
Ask the Germans their opinion.
That’s Russians for you.
Let’s not get stuck at a stalemate.
Our contract
with France Télévisions states
we can’t be held liable
for “natural overflow.”
“Natural overflow”?
Like some TV signal
that could disappear into space
and hit the wrong satellite.
And end up in other countries or planets.
It is a case of natural overflow.
Absolutely. We can’t control everything.
Big satellites receiving
musical notes, pictures, et cetera.
Do you agree, Mr. Tretyakin?
I don’t give a shit.
Andrey, we’ll find all of them.
They couldn’t just abandon us like that.
-And they are the best musicians.
-You don’t believe it, do you?
It’s them.
Hey, the wind orchestra!
Sasha! Hurry up.
It’s all because of you.
You’re so slow, fat and clumsy.
Shall we get back to the metro?
All right, let’s do it.
I can look for them all night.
-Calm down.
-At last!
-Andrey! Mr. Duplessis–
-Shut up. I will speak myself.
In 27 years in my job, I’ve never seen
such unprofessional behavior.
“Russians don’t rehearse.”
Are you fucking joking?
-Mr. Duplessis–
-Enough!
Enough!
This is a warning for all of you.
You are in breach of our contract.
Everyone must be there tomorrow
before the concert at 2:00 p.m.,
or I’m pulling the plug.
You think I’m bluffing? Don’t try me.
I’ve done it before.
-Is anyone back?
-No.
No room keys either.
They took them as well.
I’ve put notes under the doors.
I don’t care about the keys and notes.
They’re on the metro.
Bring them back here.
Fax them the schedule
for tomorrow at the hotel.
They won’t have any excuse for being late.
I’ll do it right now.
Fax that to the Bolshoi right now.
Leonid Dmitrievich, here’s a fax for you.
Don’t bother me with faxes.
I’m on vacation.
-To the concert!
-To the concert.
-Mr. Filipov–
-Andrey.
If you don’t mind.
Is it true that you defied the regime
to protect Jewish musicians?
Not only them,
but the whole orchestra?
Nothing heroic happened,
right?
There was no choice.
Difficult time.
Complicated things.
-Complicated?
-Yes.
We have lived.
Isn’t it?
This concert…
it’s like…
confession.
A cry.
From one musical note,
there is life, Anne-Marie.
Notes, all of them…
seek harmony.
Seek… happiness.
Can I admit something?
I was raised by an extraordinary woman.
Guylène.
You met her at the rehearsal.
She’s like a mother to me.
She’s my agent, my manager,
but also my friend.
The only one.
I never knew my parents.
I’m sorry.
No. Don’t be.
Please continue.
I’ve wanted my parents
to notice me since forever.
In the street.
Everywhere.
When I play,
my goal is…
for them to notice me.
One second.
Just for one second.
They were great people.
Richard and Sophie Jacquet.
Two brilliant scientists.
He was a biologist,
she was an anthropologist.
Guylène told me everything.
She was their best friend.
They died when I was a baby.
A plane accident in the Alps.
Is everything okay?
Sir.
I’d like to introduce Ivan Tikhomirov
-and Igor Nabokov.
-Nice to meet you.
Great musicians. Tikhomirov, oh!
Let’s have a shot.
Yeah. Don’t worry. We’re fine here.
My dream has come true.
Such a beautiful view.
…we’ll play at this big theater,
Châtelet.
Dad, the departure is at 10:00 p.m.
-Here they are. They’ve left.
-At half past ten!
Fine, get onboard, then.
Andrey.
Why did you choose me?
I…
worked a lot
Tchaikovsky’s Concerto.
Me…
obsessed.
Haunted. Isn’t it?
I think, with the Concerto,
meet the ultimate harmony.
Musical absolute.
Perfection.
So…
I looked for…
solo violin.
I found Lea.
Lea Strum.
Outstanding.
Extraordinary.
Became very good friend.
All very good friends then.
Lea, and Yitzhak, her husband.
We continue rehearse.
Seek.
Not normal life.
Crazy.
One day, a friend tell me that Brezhnev
want to throw out Jewish musicians
from the orchestra.
I panic.
Lea is Jewish.
Lea and me,
dissidents,
to play Tchaikovsky’s Concerto. Quick!
Me…
not protect Jews, Anne-Marie.
Me…
selfish.
I protect the Concerto.
Crazy dream.
Me need…
the Jews
to achieve…
harmony.
And then?
12 June 1980.
The Concerto.
-Were you ready?
-No.
Yes. Who can tell?
Bolshoi Theater.
House full.
People many.
Whole world journalists,
managers,
fellow musicians.
Concerto…
begins.
Miracle happens.
Lea…
sublime.
Violin…
magical.
Raises myself and orchestra
to the sky.
Much…
high.
We fly.
Us,
audience, together,
fly towards ultimate harmony.
The Concerto stopped in the middle.
We didn’t achieve harmony ultimate.
Brezhnev stopped the Concerto
in the middle.
To humiliate us in front of audience.
Brezhnev cut our wings. We…
fall a lot.
After…
all Jews thrown out.
Lea, Sasha, all.
Were you fired as well?
Yes. But everything was ended.
I can’t play without them.
What happened to Lea?
Lea and Yitzhak had interview
with Radio Free Europe.
American radio forbidden in Soviet Union.
They…
criticized Brezhnev.
Isn’t it?
And then?
Nothing.
Do you want me to replace Lea?
You didn’t want me.
I am not Lea.
You last conducted 30 years ago.
I’ve never played Tchaikovsky.
We will never have rehearsed before.
I understand your story, your sorrow.
But I’m not Lea.
And we will not achieve
the ultimate harmony together.
This concert was a dream.
With you.
You should see a doctor.
The past is the past.
I don’t think
we should do this concert together.
It’s doomed to fail.
Do you need a lift?
When he wants to leave,
-please call a taxi.
-Of course.
I’m sorry.
Yes?
So?
Nothing.
What happened?
Nothing.
Cancel the Châtelet.
Did you have to do that?
-Don’t shout at me.
-No one’s shouting.
-How’s the vodka?
-It’s French.
You’re a fool!
It’s the end. The show is over.
The concerto, Tchaikovsky,
the orchestra,
Anne-Marie, it’s kaput.
Brezhnev was right. He won.
Ira deserved
to have kids and a good husband.
I ruined her life.
Give this to her.
You give it.
Andrey, are you back into the old rut?
What happened 30 years ago
was not your fault.
It was me who dragged Lea
-into this insanity.
-No, it’s not true.
She was just as crazy as you.
Let’s go.
Guylène, please!
I must talk her.
He drink too much.
He was drunk, tell nonsense.
A lot emotions. Not do that!
Not cancel!
Please.
Concert…
the most important for him.
He not concert, dead.
-Kills him.
-Sir, please. Go away!
Let him in.
You have no right.
Andrey the most good in the world.
-Brezhnev…
-I know the story.
His career over.
Honor, over.
A genius.
Turned him into… loser.
-Drunko…
-Drunkard.
Drunkard.
-Me, Jewish, like–
-Lea.
And Yitzhak Strum, I know.
Not ask you to like Andrey.
Just play violin. Please.
Come play concert.
I’m sorry for what happened
to Mr. Filipov and his friends.
But sorry to be blunt: a concert
is not a psychotherapy session.
This man is sick.
You want me to be someone else.
Descent into madness like…
this unfortunate violinist?
No.
The answer is no.
Goodbye, sir.
Sir.
And if at end of concert…
you find your parents?
What are you saying?
That…
Jesus Christ!
Music sometimes help us grow up.
Give answers to us.
Us scared.
Scared before play music. Scared…
of truth.
I don’t understand.
Be clear!
Clear.
Nothing clear.
Nothing never clear.
Me poor fool.
Everything wrong in my life.
You ask words.
Words are traitors.
Words are dirty.
Only music still beautiful.
Music prisoner inside us. Music…
not want to go outside us.
Why?
Sorry for inconvenience.
Excuse me.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Guylène.
Mr. Grosman?
You said either too much
or too little.
How come you know Guylène?
What does it mean?
“At the end of the concert,
you will find your parents.”
What kind of Jew are you,
if you aren’t good for Sabbath?
You think if your name is Moses
it makes you a Jew.
Did God fax you about it?
Answer me.
Please.
Sasha!
You’re so pale.
Need a pill?
Miss.
Don’t speak.
Miss, excuse us.
Au revoir.
Guylène?
Guylène?
P. TCHAIKOVSKY
CONCERTO
My darling,
Play this concert.
Play Tchaikovsky.
At the end, you may find
the truth about your parents.
Forgive me
for having lied to you all these years.
I wanted to protect you.
To make you feel better.
Years ago, Andrey Filipov,
gave me Lea Sturm’s annotated score.
It is yours.
Don’t look for me when you read this.
I will be far away.
I love you. Guylène.
ORCHESTRA OF THE BOLSHOI THEATER
ANDREY FILIPOV
Paris Lumière hotel.
Mr. Sasha Grosman, please?
FRENCH-RUSSIAN
INTERPRETER
COME BACK FOR THE SAKE OF LEA.
SENDER: MOSES.
Flight from Moscow…
Paris.
BOLSHOI
UNIQUE CONCERT TODAY
Bolshoi is me!
BOLSHOI
-…Minister.
-Sir.
Good evening, sir.
Your Excellency,
Mr. Ambassador. Madam.
-On stage in 10.
-Thank God, all three of them.
Why three? Who’s missing?
Sasha, don’t worry. They’ll come.
Incredible.
Now we’re missing Vitya and his son.
They’ll come. They’ve summoned us.
Call them.
Straight, then left along the river,
then left again
before the Place du Châtelet.
How can you live in Paris
and not know the Châtelet Theater?
What do you mean
by “see you later”?
-It means I’ll see you later.
-You can’t leave now.
Why? You’re here,
and that’s the most important thing!
I’ve listened to Tchaikovsky
for over 30 years,
more than himself
and his mother combined.
I know Tchaikovsky off by heart.
There’s nothing more important
than this concert.
Yes, there is.
There’s the party convention.
I have to give a speech.
-Let me go.
-Stop it.
Did you come to Paris
for some lousy party convention?
I’m here to revive the hope,
to reanimate a big dream.
Are you capable of grasping these words?
Big dream?
I do remember these words.
“Workers of the world, unite!”
Unite one against another.
I knew you were selfish.
You are selfish.
You worry about yourself, this concert,
your dream, your ego.
It’s the only thing you care about.
This orchestra is the whole world,
Ivan.
Ivan. It’s a world.
Everyone comes into it
with their instrument,
with their talent.
People gather for a concert
to play together in hopes
of extracting a magical sound,
of achieving harmony.
Ah, Maestro.
Let me introduce you
to Raymond Laudeyrac.
Pleased to meet you.
I look forward to seeing your…
ideas.
Our most influential critic.
But don’t worry, he’s always like that.
He hates Russian music.
Especially Tchaikovsky.
Break a leg! It’s going to be a triumph.
TOGETHER FOR TOMORROW
French Communist Party!
Comrades!
The time has come!
Moscow is supporting us again.
They sent Ivan Gavrilov.
A real Russian leader!
Ivan Gavrilov!
Ivan Gavrilov!
Ivan Gavrilov?
-You?
-No.
Yes. Thank God you’re here.
This is a scandal. A disgrace.
I couldn’t control the situation
on my own.
They’ve lost it.
Leonid, you’ve been sent by heavens,
you should help me.
Come with me.
They might have started.
Be quick. He’s with me.
Where are they?
Hurry up.
Gavrilov, let me out!
God, if you are there in heaven,
give me a miracle, help me.
Prove to me that you exist.
My God, it’s unbelievable.
Do you exist?
Anne-Marie, I haven’t told you everything.
Because of the Radio
Free Europe interview,
Lea and Yitzhak
were arrested by the KGB.
They had a daughter,
a six-month-old baby.
As the KGB was coming for them,
they gave the baby to their neighbor…
To France.
…who brought her to us.
Take to France. Please.
What would have been the fate
of a child with Jewish parents
who were Enemies of the People?
Sent to labor camp for life.
Irina, Sasha and me
sent her to France straight away
thanks to a manager friend
who was in Moscow.
Lea and Yitzhak were deported to Siberia.
Until the end of her life,
Lea played Tchaikovsky’s Concerto
in her head.
They called her the Lunatic.
She died of exhaustion and cold
in 1981.
Yitzhak died from grief
six months later.
Tchaikovsky.
Violin Concerto.
It was me who dragged Lea
into this madness.
Anne-Marie,
Lea was your mother.
Curtain down.
Anne-Marie, forgive me.
Sasha in Paris?
EXTRA DATES
ANDREY FILIPOV
ORCHESTRA
EVERYBODY
TO THE CHÂTELET!
THE RUSSIAN SOUL CONQUERS PARIS
THE RETURN OF RUSSIAN MUSIC
ULTIMATE HARMONY
MONSIEUR TCHAIKOVSKY
JACQUET AND FILIPOV
IN BERLIN
THE MAESTRO
BACK HOME AFTER GLOBAL TOUR
THE CONCERT!
Hey, Leonid.
Leonid.
Lyonya!
Oh!
Amen.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Bravissimo!
Bravo!
Bravo!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *