Original subtitles

Wipe, wipe, wipe. And that food's not coming off.

Now it's Tina's problem.

- Thanks. - Crap, it's Fischoeder.

He probably wants rent. Bob, quick,

- make a bunch of money. - Yup.

Hi, Mr. Fisch.

- Hi. -Hello. - Hi.

Hello, Belchlings.

Mr. Fischoeder, sorry. I-I know we're late with the rent,

but, Yes, Bob, I would be shocked if you weren't.

Listen, I'm here because I need your catering services.

I'm having a reception at my home

for the musicians of the Wharf Arts Symphony Orchestra.

- Okay. When? - Tomorrow night.

- Tomorrow night? - Are you crazy?

To be frank, you weren't my first choice, but Irv

from Irv's Hors d'Oeuvres and More d'Oeuvres

got a bacterial infection and now he's covered

- in sore d'oeuvres. - Yuck.

Anyway, there's a concert coming up.

Udo Pfeffer's Fifth Symphony.

It's a very special one-night-only performance,

and the conductor will be someone

very handsome and charming.

- Timothée Chalamet? - Me.

Wow.

Can you just be a conductor?

You can if you have a love as deep as mine

for Pfeffer's Fifth.

Also, I've given the symphony a truckload of money,

and rich people can do whatever we want.

There it is.

But isn't conducting hard?

I mean, it's kind of just waving your arms around, right?

-No? -Yes.

But it's also

about a perfectly timed hair toss moment.

What's a hair toss moment?

Whoa.

Nice.

- Nice. - That was, that was really good.

Anyway, this reception will be a chance

to show the musicians a good time, you know,

before rehearsals. Butter them up a little.

Butter them up? Why?

Well, some of my ideas

about how the piece should be conducted

are considered controversial.

Ooh. Dish.

Let's just say I'm part of a small but passionate

group of Pfeffer-philes who believe the composer

intended the first movement to be played at a faster tempo

than most people are used to.

It unlocks the power of the piece, makes it roar.

Fun. I love when things roar.

Lions, fires.

- The '20s. - Woman.

So, if you help me out with some tasty food items,

I'm prepared to forget about this month's rent.

And if the evening goes really well,

the food's a hit, the musicians leave ready

to do anything for me,

and I'm not talking about inside-the-pants stuff, Bob,

though I can see you're thinking it.

No, no, no, I-I... no.

- I was. - If the evening goes well,

I'll forget about next month's rent, too.

So, two months' rent? Bob, it's pretty good.

Yeah. I-I guess we're catering this party.

Wonderful. Okay, my rules for caterers:

don't go poking around, looking for secret rooms

or embarrassing erotic paraphernalia,

and try not to use the bathroom at all.

How about just one big one at the end of the night,

- as a treat? - If you must.

Yay.

Look at us, serving crispy cheese balls

like classy food people.

And I'm gonna have just one more.

- Gene, no. - Boo.

Louise, what are you doing?

- Stacking napkins. - That's-that's too many.

Is it, Dad? Or do you think too small?

Okay, yup, too many.

I'll pick them up.

- Whoa! - Sorry. Floor napkin?

Okay, kids, know what?

I just realized that your helping is not helpful.

All of you, maybe go...

- Explore the mansion? - No, not allowed.

Play in the backyard.

- Okay. -Sure. - Okay, bye.

And the fastest way to the backyard

is probably through the entire house, right?

Yup.

These sliders are going over okay, right?

I got excited about peach sliders,

but they aren't an obvious crowd pleaser.

They're great, Bob. Plus peaches keep you regular.

Right, sir? He gets it.

Hi, Mr. Fischoeder.

Is the party going how you want it to go,

r-rent money-wise?

Bob, you see that man over there? The one who's bald

but in a more distinguished way than what's happening with you?

Yeah. Smart-bald.

That's Jackson the concertmaster.

First violin. If I can win him over,

the whole orchestra will fall in line.

- Okay. - But I can't go chasing him.

He'll smell fear.

I'm going to charm my way through the other instruments.

The woodwinds will be easiest.

Sweet, skittish woodwinds.

I'll just ask to see photos of their cats.

Then the brass players. A bit fratty.

I'll get them talking about their spit valves.

Swap spit stories, if you will.

Percussionists over there. I'll say "boom" a lot.

They'll love that. And finally,

the strings. They'll think and do

whatever the concertmaster thinks and does,

so if I reel him in, by the end of the night,

I'll have all the strings strung along nicely.

Sounds like a plan.

Yes. Yeah.

That's my Swedish-ish... whatever... housekeeper Inga.

This is how she likes to communicate.

Inga, what are you trying to say?

I don't remember what those mean.

- Felix is back. - Poop.

- But what's wrong? - Felix can't be here.

Parties make him even worse than usual.

I had arranged for him to be at an ayahuasca retreat tonight.

And I a-wanna ask-a him a-what happened.

A party. Okay.

Hi. Hello. You're here.

I was just at a super exclusive ayahuasca retreat.

I left because they didn't have my favorite ayahuasca flavor.

Barbecue. What's your favorite ayahuasca flavor?

I bet it's dumb.

I'll go deal with it.

But keep up the good work. And, smile.

Not you, Bob.

That's worse.

You hear that? He said, "Keep up the good work."

Two months' rent, here we come.

Yeah.

the concertmaster guy's coming over.

I'm sick of it, Kip. Every season

there's a new rich nincompoop we have to pretend to follow

while he stands up there doing some arhythmic herky-jerky.

It's a waste of time and talent. My talent.

- Yeah, an-and my talent. - I mean...

What do you call someone who hangs around musicians?

- I don't know. - What?

A viola player.

He loves the viola jokes.

It's fun for me, as a viola player.

What's a viola?

This is a bad plan, Louise.

Is it, Tina? Or are you just bad

at boosting people up to reach heavy swords on walls?

You don't want to go to that party, Felix.

It's Mr. Fischoeder.

Abort. Abort.

It's boring.

Children, children, children.

Felix, I have a favor to ask you.

Gross.

Will you watch these little rapscallions

and keep them out of trouble for the rest of the evening?

What? I don't wanna.

- Felix. - I'm going back to the party.

I'll give you a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

Two scoops.

- Deal. - Hot fudge.

- You're pushing it. - Fine.

Kids, follow me. But don't look at my bottom,

these slacks are not flattering.

No, they're not.

I'll have Inga run and drag your old toys

into the library so you can keep 'em occupied.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

We don't need someone to watch us.

Shh. I need you to watch Felix.

Under no circumstances is he to return to the party.

Ooh. What's in it for us?

How does $20 sound?

- Each. - $30 total, ten each.

Plus the sword.

That's a Prussian dueling saber.

I'll find you a dagger or a bayonet.

Will that suffice?

We okay with 30 bucks and a bayonet?

- Do we need a bayonet? - You don't want to need it

- and not have it. - Okay.

- Deal. - Done.

People who own football teams

don't put themselves in as "guest quarterbacks."

Excuse me, what's your name?

I'm Bob. This is my wife Linda.

Yes, Bob, Linda, how would you feel

if some entitled rich guy in a white suit

showed up to where you work and made you do his bidding?

- We can relate, actually. - It happens a lot.

And what if that rich guy wanted to take something

you hold sacred, something like, say, Pfeffer's Fifth Symphony,

and just rich guy all over it?

You mean, because of Mr. Fischoeder's whole

playing it faster thing?

Wait, what?

I mean, nothing. Forget it.

Good Lord.

Are you saying Fischoeder is a tempoist?

I don't, I don't know what that is.

A-a what? A-a tampon-ist?

A tempoist.

They're crackpots who think Pfeffer

intended the first movement of the Fifth

to be played at some ridiculous tempo.

They wave around one illegible letter from Pfeffer

to his mistress as proof that Pfeffer intended it that way.

It's a desecration. It's like... it's like...

peach on a burger.

Fischoeder's idea, I assume?

Well, I won't let Fischoeder

put his tacky, wacky peaches on Pfeffer's burger.

I'm not going to play the piece,

and the orchestra won't play it either.

- Whoa, um... - Wha?

- Right, Kip? - Um...

Kip's on board. We'll sit on our hands,

and Fischoeder can swing his little baton around

in a silent concert hall. Come on, Kip.

Coming. Great cheese balls.

- Super yummy. - Kip!

Thank you.

God, I blurted out the stuff

about playing it faster and ruined everything.

- Calm down. - Look, Lin,

the concertmaster's over there spreading it all around.

I'm sure he's talking about music stuff.

B-flats or whatever.

He was probably right about the sliders, by the way.

Maybe the peaches are tacky.

Jackson can go French a horn.

Mr. Fischoeder's coming over. I... I got to tell him.

Bob, Linda, is it just me, or has the vibe shifted?

I feel like we jumped from the beginning of Boogie Nights

to the end of Boogie Nights.

Mr. Fischoeder, I-I'm sorry.

I accidentally told the concertmaster

about your plan to play the piece faster.

I see.

Yeah, and now he says the orchestra won't play at all.

A big deal? Not a big deal?

Well, my intention was to save that bit of info for my toast,

when everybody's tipsy and happy

and tooting each other's tubas.

- Ooh. - Bob, I should have told you

not to speak. At all. And to shower.

So those things are on me. But I can still win them back.

She said she'll be right over.

Or we're mating. I'm not sure which.

Inga, under the bar is my copy

of Harvey Hirschman's Superior Cocktails.

On page 52, you'll find the recipe

for Cleopatra's Climax. Make two pitchers.

And a pitcher for Inga?

Yes, yes, a pitcher for Inga.

When these feisty maestros have a Cleopatra's Climax,

they're gonna loosen right up and we'll be back in business.

Ooh.

She'll need help behind the bar.

Lady-Bob, how are you with a garnish?

- Great-ish? - Splendid.

Your big fat mouth that doesn't quite go with your mustache

hasn't ruined us yet, Bob.

Good.

This one's fun. You'll like this.

I've seen Indiana Jones.

Our faces are about to get melted.

Whoa.

Did you guys not have one of these when you were little?

No, but we had a cup of slime that made a fart sound.

I call captain.

I love the amount of swords in this house.

You know what? This cannon might possibly still work.

Cover your ears.

And the cannons won't fire.

Well, this is gonna be a long night.

- -my God! - Good.

Here you go. These are a hit.

Whoa, where'd you learn to do that?

Olive Garden.

See, Bob? It's working.

Cleopatra's Climax has changed the course of history

in the free world more than once. Twice.

Oily.

And look how he decorated this place.

You'd think he had patches over both eyes.

It's hideous.

Oof. Jackson gets even meaner

when he drinks hard liquor.

Remember the open bar at the Nutcracker reception?

He made the entire wind section cry.

Yeah. He broke those winds.

No. Jackson gets meaner when he drinks hard liquor?

Yes, I heard. Not to worry.

I'll win him over with my toast.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

- I'm going to get pre-toasted. - Okay.

Good old Lincoln logs,

the shining star of Abraham Lincoln's legacy.

These are the originals,

back when they made 'em with big old logs.

Felix, maybe we can do something else?

Something not as sweaty? Or loggy?

God, you kids are difficult!

I'm gonna check out the party real quick.

- No, no, no! ... - No!

Don't go back to the party! I-I mean...

Stay. Here? With us?

Geez, you love me.

Am I a great babysitter?

- Um... - Yeah.

Hey, maybe you could show us...

that thing.

Puppet show?

That is a puppet no from me.

- I want to go to the party. - Okay.

What if we put on a show for you?

Fine. But make it good.

No multiverse crap. I'm sick of it.

Everyone,

I'd like to give a toast.

I'm being drowned out by the brass section.

Woodwinds, now I know how you feel.

Anyway, I've been waiting patiently

for this moment all night long.

The timpani player can relate.

Yup.

Ha! I don't get it, but he's doing good, right?

Yeah, but look at the concertmaster.

God. Angry eyebrows. So bushy.

I see Jackson Woodall, our first violin and concertmaster.

Let's hear it for Jackson!

You know, I once saw Jackson play

the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto perfectly,

even with a sprained middle finger.

I can tell from the welcome you've shown me tonight,

Jackson, that your middle finger is back to full form.

Can you pick up the pace?

That's what you want us to do, isn't it?

- God. - Not good.

Yes, I do believe

Pfeffer favored the Fifth at a faster tempo.

But even if that doesn't fluff your fiddle,

I only ask you to play it and keep an open mind.

A piece that survived five wars

and its use in that one rather poignant cracker commercial

-can certainly survive my awkward fumblings.

Boy.

Now I want crackers.

Pfeffer's Fifth was composed by a man

with decades of experience

and daily commitment to his craft.

It premiered in Vienna before royalty,

played by musicians who indentured from the age of five

in order to earn their place on that stage.

And you'd have it blaring from a calliope

on a carousel on Wonder Wharf

while children spin around on wooden horses,

going faster and faster and faster and faster!

I won't stand for it! I won't!

Who's with me? Hands?

I want to see hands!

Message received.

I'll step aside.

I will not conduct Pfeffer's Fifth.

Now if you'll excuse me,

I'm going to the place where I keep my drugs.

And, no, I don't intend to share.

- No. - Yeah, that's not good.

- Here. - Thank you.

Poor Mr. Fisch. He was so excited about conducting

- his Pfeffeffeff. - I feel like I should maybe go find him.

This isn't exactly my fault,

but it-it is also, a little bit.

- A lot bit. - Aah!

A lot your fault.

He will be in the hedge house.

Wh-Where's the hedge house?

In the hedge maze. Where else would it be?

Watch your step. There is peacock poop.

Peacock poop in the hedge maze?

I don't judge your hedge maze.

Sor-ry.

And that's that episode of Friends.

The one where they all were puppets.

Great job. Great Ross. Great Phoebe.

Wasn't even close to Joey's voice.

Really? "How you doin'?"

And now I believe I will slip out

for a well-earned drinky-dink.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. We're in a library

and we haven't even looked at any books yet.

You've got to read us one...

Uncle Felix.

Ew.

- Whoa. - Wow!

Yes. Secret room.

Yeah, libraries have secret rooms.

Pretty sure it's the law. My God.

You kids have never been in a library hidden room?

That is so sad.

It is sad! It's pathetic!

Please show it to us. Lot of dreams coming true here.

Follow me.

Remember the rule about my bottom.

Secret room, secret room, secret room!

This is the home gym.

You sound disappointed.

Are you a StairMaster person?

Wow. Peacock poop is huge.

. Music.

It sounds like it's coming from... that way.

Damn it.

And that's how you do it.

See how much stronger I just got?

Each of you can do three sets of 50.

I'm gonna pop into the party,

and you will stay...

here.

Are you trying to lock us in here?

No, I'm babysitting you.

Know what might work better? Why don't you get on the other side

- and pull? - Ha! You shouldn't have told me that.

No, no, no, no! Son of a...

Do we feel good about this?

I feel good about $30 and a bayonet.

Besides, it's just till the end of the party.

Yeah, and he's gonna get so buff, he'll thank us.

Yes! Hedge house!

Hi, Mr. Fischoeder.

Is this the Pfeffer song?

Yes. The dumb slow version.

What-what are you holding?

It belonged to Pfeffer. When he was composing the Fifth.

- What is it? - His diaper.

He wore it

so he wouldn't have to leave his piano bench

for the three days it took to write the adagio section.

"Tempoists."

We're not crackpots. We're right.

Sure, no self-respecting symphony orchestra

has ever recorded it faster.

But that's because they're afraid.

Afraid of how right we are.

Read the letter for yourself. You'll see.

- The letter? - From Pfeffer to his mistress.

It's written in Austrian German,

and he uses Italian musical terms.

I can't read any of that.

I don't know those languages.

Right. Yes, you speak some crude worker dialect.

Look, right here... he says he's excited

about the symphony he's almost finished.

He says it will be vivace con coraggio,

which means "lively with courage"!

"Vivace" is understood to be around 150 beats per minute,

but "con coraggio" suggests a tempo

of at least 170 beats per minute!

- Don't you agree?! - Um, totally.

Obviously. Of course.

But, Mr. Fischoeder,

y-you were so excited to conduct.

What if you just do it the regular way?

I was excited. And I did get my tuxedo re-tuxed.

So... can't you just go back to the party

and tell them you won't do the tempo thing?

Okay.

Fine. I'll do it the slow, sucky way.

Good. A-And you don't have to give us

the two months' rent. Unless you want to.

Because you think it would be cool.

Don't worry. You'll get your two months.

Thank you.

Life can be disappointing, Bob.

Even when you're rich.

Do you think that would make a good bumper sticker?

Part of it.

The symphony. We're here. Can you believe it?

This family? We're so fancy.

Did everyone remember to fart outside before we came in?

Yes.

Mr. Fischoeder!

Hello, Bob.

Are-are you excited?

Quite.

Okay. How were rehearsals?

We played the piece at the "normal" tempo

and I waved my arms around the normal amount.

Now if you'll excuse me, I should go backstage

and maestro-bate.

It's not what you think.

It's when you polish your baton.

But that's not what you think either.

Row "G." Park it here, Coolio.

Thank you, Harold. Have you been an usher here long?

- Can it! Sit! - Yep.

Mr. Fischoeder just seemed so...

- Broken? - Empty?

- A shell of a man? - Yes. Thank you.

But isn't it better to just do what you know works?

You know? Don't rock the boat?

L-Like those peach sliders we made for the party.

They-they were too much.

What are you talking about?

People loved the peach sliders.

What? But the concertmaster said that they were...

Who cares about that dork?

People were telling me all night they loved 'em.

"Peach sliders. Peach sliders. "

They were? No one told me that.

Well, people tell me things

'cause I'm a more engaging and friendly person.

- You should try that, Dad. - Gonna be tough

- with that face. - Yeah.

- Those jowls. - Yeah.

I got to go talk to him.

But the thing's about to start.

Maybe you have two minutes?

Maybe it's like Guns N' Roses

and they come out whenever they damn well please.

O-Okay, I'll be right back.

Back to your seat, slick.

- Show's about to start. - Harold, I was just... I got to...

- Just nothing, Jack. - I got...

- Butts in seats. - Please, I need...

Just for a second. I'm just lea...

Hey, that guy brought food into the auditorium!

Wha?! Okay, who's the wise guy?!

Someone must like smackdowns!

- Mr. Fischoeder? - Bob,

what are you doing backstage?

Even by classical music standards,

you're not hot enough to be a groupie.

Poof, poof, poof, poof.

Um, the a-advice I gave you

- about just conducting the piece the usual way... - Poof, poof, poof.

- I-I think I was wrong. - Poof, poof.

You should do it. The tempo thing.

- It-It's why you wanted to conduct in the first place. - Poof, poof.

- Who cares if it rocks the boat a little? - Poof, poof, poof.

The mustache man is right.

Th-Thank you, Inga.

- Now. Not before. Poof. - Right.

Old advice was stupid.

- I-I get it. - Really bad.

Two minutes, people!

- It's time. - So, are you gonna play it at the faster tempo?

- Poof, poof, poof. - It's too late. It's not how we rehearsed it.

Inga, a little more on the forehead.

- Poof. - Bob needs a little, too.

- Poof. - Th-Thank you.

Think Felix is still mad at us

for trapping him in the secret room?

He'll get over it. He's a big boy. Sorta.

Wish he'd stop staring, though.

Waving.

- Punk! - Bob,

sit, sit. It's about to start.

- Wait, what's on your face? - It's, powder.

You look good.

The concertmaster.

I hope he gets tromboned in the strombolis.

He-He's not gonna do it. The tempo thing.

Well, he's doing... okay.

Looks a little stiff.

A lot stiff.

Mr. Stiffy up there.

My God.

Is he doing the fast thing?

I think he's trying?

The concertmaster's

trying to get them to play it slower.

It's a tempo battle.

They're tempo battling.

Is the orchestra into it?

And are people bopping a little bit?

Looks like people are bopping.

- Hair toss moment. - Damn.

That's my landlord.

Ha-ha!

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