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Seven hundred miles away from Cologne,

where Keith Jarrett played a concert in 1975,

stands the Sistine Chapel,

where, 400 years before Keith took the stage,

Michelangelo stood on a scaffolding

painting the ceiling.

Today, anyone can visit the chapel.

But imagine having been there,

having seen Michelangelo up on that scaffolding.

That's an entirely different thing, isn't it?

This is not a film about the Cologne concert.

It's not about the mural, or the ceiling,

or Michelangelo.

It's about the scaffolding.

Why am I starting here?

He came!?

Shit.

Happy birthday, Vera!

50 and still a total jazz bunny.

One furry foot in the grave.

- I brought a cake. - I need a drink.

I brought that too.

♪ Birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday, dear Vera ♪

♪ Happy birthday to you ♪♪

Woo!

- Yeah! Woo! - Speech!

Oh, no, no, no, no!

Apologies… Good evening.

Vera, as you probably know, is my daughter.

When she was young, she had a lot of potential.

Brains.

Looks.

She could have been a judge. Or a doctor.

A diplomat.

But here we are. She's 50.

A good moment to summarize her life.

And I have to say…

She is, without a doubt, my greatest disappointment.

Let's do this again.

In the music business,

a false start is when

a recorded track is stopped midway,

usually when someone messes up

or when things just don't feel right.

My personal favorite false start has to be…

The Cramps.

What are you doing?

No! We're recording a fucking album,

get the fuck outta here or sit down!

Man, nobody fucking stops the tape

of The Cramps in the fucking studio!

Oh, they sound like lovely people.

The point is that you can tell a lot about a musician

by the way they stop their recording.

Uh, Dylan just laughs it off on the false take

for "Highway 61."

Okay, okay, let's try it again.

Stan Getz apologizes,

Fleetwood Mac argue,

Lee Hazlewood can be heard spitting.

But Bird, Miles.

They just whistle.

Let's try this again, younger.

Isa!

They're pretty good.

- For English people playing jazz, maybe. - He owns a club in London, Ronnie Scott's.

I wonder what he calls his willy.

Ronnie Scott's Ronnie Scott? By Ronnie Scott?

I'm Ronnie Scott, I'm gonna take a short break

before I turn into a puddle on the floor.

He's funny.

Hm?

He's not that funny.

- I'll be back. - No, please don't!

Sorry.

What kind of ice cream do you want?

The cold kind?

- You're a darling! - Hey! What is she doing?

- How do you always do that? - What?

- Act like you own the place. - It's an act.

Well, it's working.

Great. Now he's coming over.

Can I get you lovely ladies anything?

I'm asking because I hear

they do a seniors discount at the bar.

Shall we?

Sure!

How old are you?

Twenty-five.

I remember being 25.

Very long time ago, no?

You like jazz?

When it's good.

Mm-hm. Who do you like?

Coltrane.

Is that…

It starts and ends with Coltrane,

is that right?

Miles.

Mingus, Gordon.

Sonny.

- Monk. - What about my jazz?

You

need a better drummer.

I'm offended.

Good.

Are you like this with everyone?

Just the good-looking ones.

You are an old man playing in an ice cream parlor.

How do you want me to talk to you?

Kindly.

Like a grandparent?

I would never let my grandchild

in a place like this.

- Why is that? - There's too much sax.

With an "A."

Why, what were you thinking?

I know, that was terrible.

- It was a present. - Ah, I see.

Oh, hello, this is it, my hotel.

- Yeah, your hotel. - Yeah.

Can I ask you something?

You're not trying to ask me to kiss you, right?

Will you book a tour for me?

A tour?

Mm-hm. In Germany.

Why should I do that?

I'll pay you 10 percent my cut.

Why me? I never booked a tour before.

Because I can't imagine anyone turning you down.

Good night,

Vera Brandes.

A tour?

Good night!

- You have school tomorrow. - I didn't realize it was this late.

- Where were you? - Isa's.

I can smell the cigarettes. I'm talking to you, young lady!

Like a whore. Coming home in the middle of the night.

Do you mind?

You went to that jazz club, didn't you?

If you want to achieve half of what I have in this life, young lady,

you'll need to change direction.

He's a dentist.

Open wide.

Must be Herr König's root canal.

What are you doing?

Hello?

- I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott. - "I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott."

"I'm 18 and I still live at home…"

"I'm organizing fantasy gigs for old men I met yesterday."

Stop it!

Sit down!

Best thing about my dad's clinic?

A separate phone line.

What should I say?

Hello. This is Vera Brandes.

I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott.

Yes, hi. This is Vera Brandes. I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott.

Will people show up?

Of course they will. Are you kidding?

Hi! This is Vera Brandes. I'm booking a tour for the Ronnie Scott trio.

Who?

Ronnie Scott, the jazz musician.

Hello?

Hello. This is Vera Brandes.

Sorry to bother you so late.

I'm booking a tour for the Ronnie Scott trio.

A year and a half in advance?

One second! Someone's coming. I'll call you right back.

- What's wrong? - No one knows Ronnie Scott is famous.

Maybe I'm doing it wrong.

Maybe it's that clinic. It's so depressing.

At the record store, when someone calls from England, the manager is always nicer.

- Maybe I should call from England. - You'd have to get there first.

Can I borrow a cigarette?

Who are you?

Oliver. I just moved here.

- Where did you move from? - Hanover.

- Hanover. - Hanover.

What do you do for fun?

We organize against oppressive political systems.

- Do you have boyfriends? - We don't believe in boyfriends.

Vera!

I have to go.

Who's that?

Her boyfriend.

He doesn't go to school here.

No, he doesn't go to school here.

Ciao!

Pretend you're a club owner and I'm calling you.

And November's not possible but the first of December could work.

You're just going to work for this guy?

I'm going to be a concert promoter.

- He wants to sleep with you, you know. - Can we try?

Fine.

You know what? Let's do it in English.

Fine.

- Hello? - Hi.

I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott.

Who's Ronnie Scott?

- The jazz musician. - Oh.

Terrible man. I hate his music.

Please never call here again, thank you, bye.

Uh, "I am manager."

I am the concert, um…

um, chef, concert booker, concert…

Vera! Hello?

"…to promote."

You've been in there for half an hour!

I am the concert promoter of Ronnie Scott.

Are you actually asking

if people will come for Ronnie Scott?

Of course they will!

They'll pack the house, and they will dance.

Vera!

Do you know who I am?

Vera Brandes!

Just improvise.

Improvise.

Bunker Ulmenwall. Hello?

- Hello? - Yes, hello, this is Vera Brandes.

I'm calling from London.

I am… can I talk to your booking manager, please?

- I'm on the phone. - Oh, great.

So, I'm booking a tour for the Ronnie Scott Trio.

He'll be in town October 9th to October 13.

- The 10th, we'll be free. - Tenth!

Okay, uh, yeah, okay, great, um…

How much is your split?

How much? Um, just a moment.

Um, six… 650?

I'm gonna give you a 20 percent cut

from the door.

Twenty percent cut, perfect.

Sounds perfect to me.

Sound check is at 3:00, door's at 7:00,

and show at 8:00.

What? Sorry, I didn't understand that.

It's very loud here, I'm on the tour bus.

Sound check, yes.

…starts at 8:00.

- You got that? - I got that, absolutely.

I got that so much, yes.

- 8:00. - We'll see you then.

Okay, yeah, we'll see you then.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Bye.

Holy shit.

Guess who just booked her first concert!

Hello, this is Vera Brandes, I'm calling from London.

Can I talk to your booking manager, please?

Yeah, hi. I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott.

He'll be in town October 15.

Ronnie Scott. I'm his booking agent.

Uh, 40 percent of your take.

Whoever has the money has the power and whoever has the power has the right.

See you.

Vera Brandes. I'm booking a tour for Ronnie Scott.

He'll be in town…

To comply is to lie.

13th of October.

Sound check needs to be at 4:00.

Away, capitalists, we will win the last battle.

See you then.

Can I talk to your booking manager?

- It's very urgent. - Fantastic!

Um, amazing.

What did you say? I couldn't hear you.

Ah, there she is.

Well, there's still some money in jazz, apparently.

Apparently.

I gotta go. Bye, Ronnie!

Can I get another, a triple, in case she comes back?

I'd say 50 percent of the bar and 10 percent of the door.

Explore the god in you

by working the animal in you.

From now on, this is all you'll listen to.

CAN?

The British papers say it comes from Communism, Anarchism, Nihilism.

Some say it comes from Turkish "çan" for life, soul.

- Wanna know the truth? - Yes.

They collected optional band names in a tin can, and two band members just wrote 'Can'.

Thank you.

No, please take care of the water damage at once!

The Engelmanns move in in two weeks.

There's a strange smell in the clinic this morning.

Mm-hm.

Fritz, what are your plans for the day?

Another day of sitting around and doing nothing?

He's trying.

Losers try. Winners get the job.

- I'm not a loser. - Oh yeah?

You sure look like one to me. Do you have to smoke at breakfast?

Yes.

- Where is she going? - School!

Here we are. It's not very big but it has…

Soon enough, I was making enough money

to rent a small

"office."

Good light, great location, at a very reasonable price.

- I'll take it! - With pleasure.

No! No, the fourth doesn't work!

No way! Especially not for this amount!

Listen to me, Ralph Towner is not going to miss three gigs to perform at your place…

- Mouths open. - What is that?

Body of Christ.

Listen to the nice man.

I'm trying to understand why you think this is my problem!

Very good.

I'm not complicating things, I'm protecting my artist!

Then why won't you listen? Then you go there and drive them!

- What are you doing to me? - Corrupting you.

Listen to me! That's impossible!

Then I suggest you learn how to use it.

Do not yell at me!

Lesson number 2: Floh De Cologne.

One makes love when one is young.

Later one marries.

But I don't want to obey!

Quiet! Assembly line baby! Get married!

But I don't want to do the same things!

Quiet! Assembly line baby! Start a family!

But I don't want to go to work and do the chores!

Quiet! Assembly line baby! Buy a car!

But I don't want to just have children, go to work and do the chores!

- Quiet! Assembly line baby! Build a home! - But I don't want to become a moron!

- Quiet! Assembly line baby! Watch TV! - But I don't want to ruin my health!

Quiet! Assembly line baby! Save for retirement!

- But I don't always just want to… - Quiet! Assembly line baby! Work!

Work is a joy!

Be quiet down there!

Nothing will quiet us down!

- Yeah! - Wow!

Work evenings are triple the joy!

The weekend has a cock in its mouth!

Morning! Wake up!

I know what you're doing.

- What? - I know you haven't been sleeping here.

I know you have a flat. I can ruin everything for you.

- You wouldn't dare. - Try me.

You're a moron.

- It's 7:40, Vera. - Will you give me a lift?

Sure.

What do you want?

Work.

You didn't tell me we'd be driving all night.

You don't pay me enough.

You want more money?

Then just do your work.

I don't work for you.

Hmm.

You literally work for me.

Hurry up!

Oliver, come on!

Quick!

Go!

AWAY WITH SECTION 218!

They feel oppressed.

Not only those demonstrating on the streets will be dissatisfied with these statements.

Far more than half of all women want abortion access.

My belly belongs to me!

In total, no less than 73% of all women are calling for the government

to decide in favor.

Vera, you've brought dozens of jazz acts to Cologne.

How does a young woman get involved with all of these musicians?

Ice cream.

At your age, shouldn't you be listening to rock'n'roll?

We don't like being told what to listen to.

- Who's we? - My friends and I.

- Friends from school? - Some.

Do you believe in love?

Are you pro-abortion?

I'm anti-Nazi.

Do you have a boyfriend?

I don't know. Do you have a boyfriend?

Is it okay for a woman to use her looks to gain an advantage?

If she wants to.

What do you want out of life?

To die. And then become immortal.

You are misquoting Godard.

I'm more practical.

- It's workers' exploitation! - Yeah. Make sure it's straight!

It's just not right.

I have a high school diploma. I can do better than this.

It's just like Dad says.

What image represents the phrase, "The feminist seed…"

Frau Brandes!

"The feminist seed goes…"

Where do you think you're going?

Berlin. Jazz Days. I'll be back on Monday.

- Absolutely not! Who gave you permission? - I don't need your permission.

- Vera, I will not pay for this. - I don't need your money.

- I said you're not going! - Don't touch me!

Dr. Brandes!

Hello, Frau Menken!

Is everything okay?

Of course, it is. Of course.

It's 1974.

The Ramones just formed in New York,

disco is about to get huge,

but in Berlin, it's all about jazz.

Berlin is the best jazz festival

in the entire world.

Jazz Days in Berlin.

His picture is everywhere in Berlin.

Miles Davis, the most influential musician on the international jazz scene,

took center stage at the Berlin Jazz Days.

You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?

Huh?

I said, are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?

I don't know; what are you thinking?

If somebody dropped a bomb here,

there'd be no more jazz left in the world.

Why should anyone drop a bomb here?

I don't know, maybe they hate jazz.

I'm Michael.

Okay.

I know what this looks like,

but just let me assure you,

I'm about to become an integral part of this story.

That's Miles-fucking-Davis.

In Berlin, I saw Keith Jarrett

play for the first time.

And you always remember your first time.

What are you doing here?

Where were you?

You've been waiting here all night?

- They wouldn't let me in. - Oh no.

Morning.

Morning.

I'm going to organize a concert for Keith Jarrett.

Keith Jarrett? The guy who plays keyboard for Miles?

Just him and a piano.

No band. No standards.

- Will he play anything? - Nothing. Everything.

- He improvises. - You smell like sweat.

And you stink like a pig that slept outside all night.

You're the pig.

Are they going to pay you to put on this show?

If I can find a venue. And fill it.

Gigi's ice cream parlor?

The Cologne Opera.

Jazz? At the Opera House?

- A thousand seats. - One thousand three hundred.

For jazz? You have officially lost your mind.

Have you ever seen Keith Jarrett play?

Then you won't understand.

The Cologne Opera House was originally built in 1902.

The building was bombed and destroyed during the war,

then rebuilt like the rest of the city

in Modernist style.

One thing's for sure:

A prestigious establishment like this is not in the habit

of hosting a…

A jazz concert?

Not a jazz concert. A Keith Jarrett concert.

- They need you on the rehearsal stage. - Thank you.

Forgive me, Frau Brandes. We have a show tonight.

I just need a commitment. For January 24.

Make ten copies.

- Impossible, I'm afraid. - Why?

- We have Lulu scheduled. - Lulu?

Have you sent out the offers? The opera by Alban Berg.

- Herr Breuer? - Yes, what?

Then we'll go after.

It ends at 10pm.

Then the theater must be cleaned up, the instruments removed.

- Then we'll go at 11pm. - Hi, Boss.

11 at night, in January?

Are you mad?

- Would you like to see the new stage set? - I'll be right with you.

I'll pack the house.

No sets. No electric instruments. No PA.

Nothing. Him and a piano. Your Bösendorfer.

- And you will pay in advance. - Of course.

It's 10,000 DM.

10,000 DM.

Is that a problem?

No!

- Not at all. - Good.

Very good.

10,000 DM?

Where the hell are you going to get that?

How do I look?

Beautiful.

But 10,000 DM?

I need to look young and innocent.

I don't know about innocent.

Hello!

Shit.

"NOT EVEN 20, ALREADY AN OLD JAZZ BUNNY"

Ah! The jazz bunny.

Could I perhaps have an autograph? I'm a huge admirer of your work.

Where are they?

Why do you look like this?

Hello.

I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd print this title.

They're trying to sell papers.

Your headmaster called. She saw the paper.

You are going to be expelled.

I'll fix it.

Frau Vogel made up her mind.

I guess this is the wrong time to ask for a 10,000 DM loan?

Jazz bunny! That's what they call my daughter. Is that what you are now?

We gave birth to you!

Bravo.

Vera!

- Vera! - Ilse, just let her go!

Vera, wait!

Ilse!

- You came back. - Yes.

Vera, I'm sorry for hitting you. I'm really sorry. Come here. Please.

Is it the money?

Is that why you're here?

I thought so.

Just like a whore.

I'll pay you back right after the concert.

I've already committed to it.

Do you know what I was doing when I was your age?

Going to school?

I sat on a giant spotlight,

trying to find the planes coming to bomb the city.

And I watched it burn to the ground.

There was nothing left.

Nothing.

From which I rebuilt my life.

And now I have two children.

A loser and a whore.

If I was a real whore I wouldn't need to ask you for the money.

You can run all you want, Vera.

You can put up your little shows and pretend you're a jazz bunny.

But I can tell you how your story ends. You're going to fail.

You're going to fail and lose everything.

And then you'll go to school.

And if you're lucky, you'll have your own clinic one day.

In the basement of the house where your children live.

Until then, you won't get a dime from me.

Not a single dime.

- Understood? - Yes.

Dad.

What happened to your face?

The patriarchy.

Huh?

Nothing.

You should go now.

Oh.

Maybe you deserved it.

- Vera! Open the door! - Who's that?

My boyfriend.

Vera!

Open… the… door!

Open… the… door!

Vera!

- Where is he? - Who?

I heard you met someone at Gigi's…

What happened to your face? Did he do this?

No, he didn't, it was…

- Jan! He didn't do this! - I'm going to kill you!

I didn't know she was with someone! Calm down! I didn't know…

Stop.

Calm down!

- Mama. - Stop it! Stop it right now!

Who the hell are you?

Who am I? Who are you?

- That's her mother, you idiot. - Mother?

She's 18!

I have to get out of here.

You as well.

You live here alone?

Yes.

You smoke?

Do you have a washing machine?

No.

And how do you pay the rent?

Mom, you don't have to worry, I'm… working.

Mm.

There's a check in here.

The money you need for your concert.

You can have it, under one condition.

If you can't pay me back, you'll stop with the music business.

You'll finish school and… you'll do something useful with your life.

Become a dentist.

Yes.

Does Dad know about this?

- Not yet. - He'll never agree.

You leave him to me.

If you take this money, then you have to promise me.

I'll pay you back.

Good.

Nice place.

Where did you get your ideas from?

Ideas?

Oh, man, I got a million dreams.

That's all I do is dream.

All the time.

I thought you played piano.

No, this is not piano, this is dreaming.

It's been a year since we've last seen each other.

I'm here in Lausanne, attempting to write a story

about Keith Jarrett for Jazz World magazine.

Whoo, it's kind of a big deal assignment.

Jarrett has just embarked on a European tour

of improvised solo concerts.

But what does that mean?

Well, you could look at the evolution of jazz

as a process of elimination.

First, there was the composition

and the big band to play it.

The Count Basie Big Band, ladies and gentlemen.

The band later arranges the score,

conducts the players.

Solos are pre-defined.

Oh, look at that, there's one.

He's playing on a pre-defined key,

improvising on a theme.

He's only allowed to go as far

as the number of bars allotted.

Then, bands got smaller.

Quintets, quartets, trios,

all improvising within a set chord progression,

which leads us to the next step in the process.

The band leader has been eliminated.

Now they're equal, just following a blueprint.

We call that blueprint a standard.

These musicians, they're just throwing paint

on a sturdy foundation.

But it doesn't stop there because after that,

someone decided to do away with the foundation.

Free jazz.

Complete improvised freedom.

No one knows where this is headed.

It's free and, yet, it requires a deep connection

between the players.

A virtuosity.

And frankly, some of it sounds like crap.

The final elimination leaves nothing in place.

Keith Jarrett steps up onstage

and he has no one to improvise with,

no one to bounce ideas off of,

no preconceived notion of what he's going to play.

He's alone.

His mind is empty.

So, you try it.

Yeah, you.

Get up, wherever you are.

In the movie theater, in your bed, on your couch.

Stand up and sing something,

but it can't be anything you know.

It has to be brand new.

Nothing you've ever, ever heard before.

Nothing you've ever thought of, nothing you've ever hummed.

No? Yeah, I didn't think so.

And imagine that you have to do it for an hour

every other night, never once repeating yourself.

And imagine that you are so good at it

that each and every concert you play

could become an actual record, an actual album.

You think you understand how hard this is,

but you have no idea.

In fact, here's Ana-Marija Markovina.

In case you haven't been following Piano Digest,

Markovina is a world-renowned,

Grammy-nominated classical pianist.

Here she is tackling C.P.E. Bach's "Solfeggio No. 1."

Pretty impressive, right?

But watch what happens.

Hey, Ana-Marija, um, can you play something

nobody's ever heard before?

No?

What are you waiting for?

Go for it.

Yeah, I'll let you think about it.

Phew, it is so much harder than it seems.

And yet, Keith Jarrett is doing it every night.

He is departing from jazz and playing pure music.

Undefined by anything but the player, the moment,

and, of course, the piano.

Okay.

How was it?

It was good.

Where to next?

Cologne.

It's an eight-hour drive.

Fuck!

You can sleep in the car.

No, I can't sleep in the car.

- And we're recording you. - No.

Martin is coming over from Berlin.

No, no, no, no. No, call 'em off.

If it happens again, I'm gonna stop playing.

It's not gonna work tonight.

Oh.

But I flew in just for this.

- I'm sorry. - Oh.

Please. Please, I have to do this interview.

He's in no state to talk to anyone right now.

Okay, so when will he be able to talk to me?

We can try tomorrow in Cologne.

Tomorrow?

Come on, help me.

Okay, lift him up, slowly.

Easy, easy.

Easy.

We got you.

I'll go and try and find a doctor.

Uh… uh, hey, Keith, it's great to meet you.

I'm Michael Watts.

You have a back like a 60-year-old factory worker.

I pushed a car up a hill once.

Slipped a disc.

With the way you've been playing,

it doesn't help.

You know who I am?

Of course I know you.

You played for Miles Davis.

Yeah.

It's gonna be on my gravestone.

You should probably stop.

Playing?

Moving.

You play well enough.

You don't need the gimmick.

How long has he been having back problems?

He's a very private person.

You cannot write about any of this.

Of course.

What about the coughing in the audience?

Does he always complain about it?

You don't get it.

Okay, help me get it.

To reach that level of playing,

he needs to be hyperconcentrated

and, at the same time, totally relaxed.

He's so into the moment

that every little thing

around him

shapes the music.

Every camera snap feels like a bat to the head.

Man, that's-that's good,

that's very good.

You can't use it.

Yeah, no, of course not.

- I'm fine. - Hm?

I'm fine.

- No, stop. - Okay.

It's, uh, here.

Oh, God.

Are you good?

Okay.

Thank you for your help.

Oh, of course.

Uh…

If you like, we can try and do the interview

tomorrow in Cologne.

Yes, right, Cologne.

Um, I'll just have to find a way to get there.

Okay then.

Um…

Goodbye, Keith.

Maybe I'll see you in Cologne.

Um, wait.

Wait!

Oh, thank God.

Hi. Hi, sorry.

Look, the truth is, I don't have a car here.

It's late, and I'd really appreciate if I could

ride with you to Cologne.

No interviews.

No interviews, of course.

Great, thank you.

Oh, my God, thank you.

It's nice and warm in here.

So, are we headed to the bus?

The bus?

Your tour bus or van or…

Are you…

You're touring in this car?

Look, man, you gotta stop.

Right, sorry.

We've got a long drive ahead of us.

You gotta be quiet.

Right, yes.

I can be quiet.

By the time he was three,

everyone knew Keith Jarrett was a prodigy.

And everywhere he went, people noticed.

At 15, he was already touring with players double his age:

Art Blakey, Charles Lloyd, Wayne Shorter, his own trio.

And finally, the holy motherfucking grail.

They say Miles asked Keith to join his band three times

before Keith said yes.

Imagine the balls.

Turning Miles down twice?

Like turning down an invitation to Andy Warhol's factory.

Like saying no to Michael Jordan

if he asked you to join the '93 Bulls.

But eventually, Keith said yes.

And everyone thought that was it.

He had arrived.

And, now, here he was,

out of the Miles train,

out of his Columbia Record deal,

in Europe with a broken back.

I can hear you think.

Who did you say you wrote for again?

Uh, Jazz World, on a freelance basis.

So, what'd you think of the show?

- Me? - Yeah.

You heard it, right?

I did.

So?

It was great.

You can tell me.

I thought parts of it were just brilliant.

What about the other parts?

Some parts felt like you got stuck on an idea

and you kept repeating it.

Jesus Christ.

You asked.

I didn't know we had Lester Bangs in the car.

I do want to ask something now that we're talking…

We are not talking.

What?

I'm trying to understand why.

Why?

Why you're doing this.

Doing what? Making music?

No, I mean, you could be in New York.

You know what Dexter Gordon said

when they asked him why he moved to Copenhagen?

The weather.

That's very funny.

I'm not sure it answers my question, but…

Why are we at the airport?

I need to do something.

You get something to eat and I see you later.

I can't eat this.

Do you ever play between concerts?

- No, never. - Why not?

That's rehearsing, man.

It would seep in.

Mm. Is that why you don't listen to music in the car?

- Mm-hm. - You empty yourself?

I try.

And how do you start?

You get up on stage,

you sit in front of the piano, and then what happens?

I put my hand down.

- It's that easy? - It's not easy.

But it's random?

No, no, there's nothing random about it at all.

Well, isn't putting your hand down

kind of the definition of random?

Who is going to even care about any of this?

People care about what you have to say.

My back is killing me.

I know that you're a follower of the mystic Gurdjieff,

and he believes that we walk through life asleep

like automatons.

My spiritual journey is nobody's business.

I'm just trying to understand, man.

You realize understanding

isn't as important as you think it is?

Look, have you ever gotten into your car

and driven to work, and then you get there

and you have no memory of getting there?

And music can wake us up?

Maybe that's what good music can do.

But when you play, you seem to get lost somewhere.

You go someplace.

Isn't that the opposite of being awake?

Maybe we have different definitions

of what being awake is.

Oh, that's good.

Yeah.

Can't use any of this.

No, of course not.

Manfred.

I gotta piss.

I'll meet you at the car.

Hi, Keith.

This was a mistake.

Mm-hm.

You okay?

Want to pull over?

No.

Thank you for doing this.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Hey.

Where are we?

Not sure.

Ooh, it's cold.

- Do me a favor? - Mm.

Don't talk.

Just listen.

Shh.

Stop thinking.

I have one last question.

Heard that one before.

Do you ever worry about failing?

Every night.

This actually happened?

Well, not really.

Keith and Manfred did drive from Lausanne to Cologne.

I just wasn't in the car with them.

And so, in accordance with the fine journalistic tradition

of making up stories.

Um, this next part though, that-that did happen.

And now, from New York, Todd Rundgren: "Everybody's going to heaven,

- because we've all been through hell." - WDR 2. They're expecting me.

You're listening to "Radiothek" on WDR.

I told your friend we don't play jazz on Radiothek.

- Jazz is dead. It's museum music. - It's not jazz.

- Keith Jarrett is not jazz? - No.

- Then what is he? - I don't know.

I thought you were the promoter.

Nobody knows! Keith doesn't know! That's the whole point!

So it's jazz.

- It's free improvisation! - Yes. Jazz.

- He plays whatever comes to him. - So jazz.

It's unlike anything you've ever heard. Your listeners deserve to know about it!

Jazz. Jazz. Jazz. Jazz. Jazz.

Listen, it's a long story,

but if I don't sell tickets today, I'll have to become a dentist.

- I can't stand dentists. - Me neither.

So what should I say?

Say it's happening. And you don't know what it is,

but it's something, and it's happening tonight at the Opera House at 11pm.

And if you happen to be in Cologne, you should consider coming.

Because nobody knows what it will sound like,

or be like. And that's how magic happens.

I'll say there's a jazz concert at the Opera House at 11.

Thank you!

I'm going to have to find a real job.

She's in her late teens but already the ultimate femme fatale.

Men can't help but fall for her. Then she destroys them.

Hey! That's my sister you're talking about.

No. It's Lulu. The opera before our show.

How does it end? The opera?

She becomes a prostitute, brings home Jack the Ripper, and he murders her.

Why do you know this?

You have to know the old world before you can destroy it.

There she is.

Drop me off at the hotel, then go to the Opera House

and make sure they're ready for the sound check.

And we need to check on all the shops and see that they have tickets.

What are you waiting for? Go!

I don't want to do this.

You have to do the sound check.

I don't want to play tonight.

You ought to get some rest.

You will feel better.

Oh, there she is.

- That's the promoter? - Hey!

Recruiting from high schools now?

Don't forget, I just picked you up at the airport.

Hi, sorry I'm late.

Hi. I'm Vera Brandes. Welcome to Cologne.

How was the flight?

Um, we should go.

Yes. Yes, follow me.

- Come here. Yeah. - Um…

Just around the block.

Is the piano tuned?

Yes, it should be.

The opera promised it will be ready.

Just go ahead.

I'll catch up.

- What's wrong with him? - His back.

You shouldn't have made us walk.

He looks terrible.

- He didn't sleep all night. - Did he not sleep on the flight?

It's beautiful, isn't it?

We were told the Opera House will have a Bösendorfer Imperial.

Yes. Is this not it?

It's not.

What is it?

It's a half-broken piece of garbage.

This isn't a Bösendorfer?

It's a baby grand. A rehearsal piano.

It's not the Imperial?

A Bösendorfer Grand Imperial is about three meters long.

It has nine additional keys and weighs half a ton.

I'll wait downstairs.

Uh…

What does that mean?

It means this is the wrong piano, and it means Keith Jarrett will not play on it.

- This must be some kind of a mistake. I… - Yeah.

Just wait here.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Herr Breuer?

Shit.

Can I help you?

Yes! Thank God you're here. The piano.

You have the wrong piano on stage. I need the Grand Imperial.

- It's not on stage? - No.

Is Herr Breuer here? It's an emergency.

He's not here today unfortunately.

Then who can help me?

Well, it's 4pm on a Friday. I'm not sure anyone can help.

That's not possible. I was promised the Grand Imperial.

- Herr Breuer assured me of this in person. - I'm really sorry.

Where do you keep your pianos?

Our pianos? I'm not sure I follow.

The pianos. Where do you keep the Opera's pianos?

I don't know.

There's a missing piano. Where could it be?

You don't have to talk to me that way.

I'm sorry. I'm just trying…

What's your name?

Sabine Hofmann.

Frau Hofmann.

I need your help.

Can you call someone? Your technical director? Herr Breuer?

There must be someone?

- I guess I could try. - Please.

No answer.

Try Breuer.

Should we really involve him?

Try Breuer, please.

Okay, okay.

Hello? Hello?

This is Sabine Hofmann from the Opera House.

I'm sorry to disturb you on a Friday, but I need to speak to Herr Breuer.

Is he back perhaps?

I see. Well, can you have him call when he arrives?

Thank you.

No, no, no. Everything is perfectly fine.

All good, yes.

I wish you a very nice weekend too.

Goodbye!

Frau Hofmann. Lulu begins in two hours. The piano on stage is broken.

Keith Jarrett will not play in the Cologne Opera House on a broken down shit piano!

- You don't have to yell. - Yes, I do have to yell!

This is everything for me.

I need a piano. Here. In the next two hours.

He can't play on the one that's on stage?

No!

No one knows where the piano is.

Can you just tell me what's wrong with this one?

Apart from it being out of tune?

- One of the pedals doesn't work. - Okay.

The action is uneven on the keys. Some keys don't release properly.

The tone is bad.

- It sounds tinny. It has no volume. - Got it.

It's too small and too weak for this room.

It can't make enough sound. Not for one thousand people.

What if it's the only option?

Even if this were the last instrument on earth,

Keith would not play on it.

Excuse me again for a moment.

Frau Hofmann! Do you have a phone book?

- Ah! You're back. - I'm back.

- Do you have a phone book? - Of course we have a phone book.

We'll need it. And we'll need to use your phones.

And the piano tuners. I'll be right back. I'm getting everyone.

Everyone? Who's everyone?

Excuse me, I'm here to record the Keith Jarrett concert.

Where should I set up?

Thank you.

- All good? - Isa, I need your help.

Come on!

We're calling piano stores, rental companies, concert halls.

Anyone who may have access to a piano and is able to bring it here.

- The piano tuners! - Thank you!

Bösendorfer, Grand Imperial.

As soon as possible. I need it in the Cologne Opera House.

Grand Imperial.

It's an emergency. I need a Grand Imperial.

Yes, hi. I have a problem…

I need a Grand Imperial for the Cologne Opera today.

Yes, I know it's late. I know it's late.

I'm very polite.

I need a Grand Imperial for the Cologne Opera.

I understand it's a very expensive piano.

We need one urgently tonight.

We need it now.

No one can tell us where we can get one.

What do you mean when? Right now!

No, not a Steinway!

A Grand Imperial.

Can you please call someone?

It's an emergency. You have none?

Yes, thank you.

I found a piano.

A Grand Imperial. At the adult education center.

- We can wheel it over. - They're coming to open for us.

We're on our way!

Go! I'll meet you outside!

We found a Grand Imperial. We're bringing it in right now.

Good.

I'm sorry about all of this. I…

- Piano tuners? - Yes.

- Follow us! - Where to?

The new piano!

- Piano? - Yes!

Here it is!

We were just about to send it back for storage.

Push! Push!

I'll need you to sign the liability papers.

Of course.

Stop.

Stop!

- You can't do this. - Why not?

This isn't some jam band instrument.

You'll destroy it.

I don't have a choice.

Do you have 40,000 DM lying around? Because that's going to be the repair bill.

I don't have any time…

Whatever the problem is, this is not the solution.

So what's the solution?

Show me the other piano.

The piano is broken!

Show me.

Please.

Do you want it or not?

- Okay. - Okay.

Ladies and gentlemen of the orchestra, the show is about to begin.

Performers, please take your places.

And?

We can fix it, but for this room?

But you said, "Show me the piano."

- And now I'm saying we can fix it. - But not to a Grand Imperial!

- This is a rehearsal piano. - We're piano technicians.

We don't do miracles.

He's not going to play.

Ladies and gentlemen of the orchestra, performers, please take your places.

Is that you, idiot?

No.

Let me in.

- What? - Everyone is looking for you.

What are you doing here?

He's not going to play, I won't be able to pay them back. I made a deal.

So, you're quitting?

I wish they gave me 10,000 DM.

Yeah? What would you do with it?

I have some ideas.

You know I hate you, right?

Yes.

But if anyone can find a way out, it's you.

- He's not going to play. - Then make him.

- How? How do I make him? - I don't know. Improvise.

Look at us.

Me…

I'm good looking. Sure.

But you?

You're Vera Brandes.

Not even 20, already an old jazz bunny.

They're coming tonight.

- Who? - Mom and Dad.

They asked me for tickets.

- He wants to see me fail. - Yes.

Why are you being so nice?

Because I hate him more than I hate you.

Well, that's it.

How long do you need? To fix it?

Five hours. And Lulu is about to start.

Can you work while they perform?

You want us to fix a piano during a live performance of Lulu?

Yes, backstage. You'll have an hour between the opera and our concert.

- You'll be able to check it then. - No.

We can try.

Thank you.

Hey, watch out!

Hey. Everything all right?

Will Keith play?

Maybe.

You get any sleep?

Maybe I'm asleep right now.

Huh. We all are, right?

You ask him why he's doing this.

Why he tours like that, away from home

in a tiny car with his back the way it is.

You know why we stopped at the airport?

We were cashing in the plane tickets

the promoter sent us so we have money for the tour.

Oof.

Artists like Keith,

they show up maybe once a generation.

And now the world doesn't seem to care.

Museum's music, dead.

No one shows up.

Is that why Columbia Records dumped him?

They want standards.

He's a risk.

In America, the business eats the artist.

Right?

In Europe, we still have some respect for them.

So, you're saying it's American music

for a European audience?

It's music for people with ears.

Who is it?

Vera Brandes.

What happened to you?

I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?

I haven't slept in two days.

Find a piano?

I'm having the broken one fixed.

It's not gonna help.

Wait, if you don't play,

I'm… I have to stop booking shows.

I have to leave the music business.

Good, I'll be doing you a favor.

I'm begging you.

You're begging me to fail.

I'm asking you to save me.

If you don't play, my life is gonna be over.

I'm sorry, I can't.

Fuck!

What?

Can I ask you one thing?

How long has it been that you're playing

on expensive pianos,

the Grand Imperial with nine extra keys?

You know what I think?

I think you are spoiled. I think you're scared.

I think inside of you, you don't know

if you can do it to… to play a note

without knowing exactly how it will sound.

To… to really improvise.

Maybe you should thank me.

Maybe I'm giving you an opportunity.

An opportunity to what?

To go somewhere new.

How old are you?

Twenty-five.

You're not twenty-five.

Twenty.

I'm eighteen.

You're an eighteen-year-old kid

and you walk around the world

acting like people owe you something.

I'm just a girl who booked a concert.

On a broken piano.

On a broken piano with a fixed pedal.

You've got a lot of balls.

I've got a lot of experience dealing with narcissistic men.

Cologne tap water, can I drink this?

Yes.

All right.

Just for you, remember that.

For me?

If the pedal's fixed.

You'll play.

If it's in tune.

You'll play.

And if you leave.

Yes.

Yes!

You're still here.

Tonight at the Cologne Opera, Keith Jarrett plays a solo concert.

The young promoter Vera Brandes says,

"It's not jazz, it's anything Keith plays at the moment."

11 pm at the Opera right after Lulu.

Roll up, roll up to the menagerie,

proud gentlemen! Life-loving ladies!

She was created

to wreak evil and destruction.

To entice,

to practice seduction,

to poison,

to murder,

without leaving a trace!

It was a strange dinner.

Like a wake, but for a disaster that was about to take place.

Vera tried to breathe.

Thoughts were buzzing around her head.

Will the piano be fixed in time?

Will anyone even show up?

And Fritz.

Fritz was wrestling with this new feeling inside of him,

something closely resembling love.

Jan. He just kept thinking about the man

that Vera slept with.

It kept him up at night.

And Oliver, he was hoping the piano fiasco

hadn't ruined his chances with Isa,

who was busy pretending that she didn't notice.

I have to go check on the piano.

I'll see you there.

Keith, meanwhile…

Stop.

It's like a hundred degrees in here.

There's something I need to tell you.

Don't get mad.

Martin is here with the equipment.

No, I told you, I don't want him to.

He's going to tape the concert.

There's not going to be a concert.

It's going to be a fucking car crash.

We already paid him.

So, what? Send him home.

We will not release it. I-I promise.

Oh, no.

Our famous strawberry à la mode.

Oh, Go… oh, man.

This is a fucking disaster.

Are you sure it's the right piano?

The pedal works.

So we have that.

We have no time left.

Can you… go somewhere?

Hmm?

You're not helping.

Hey! Good evening!

Keith Jarrett is playing a solo concert. Right now. In twenty minutes.

- Just go and see it. - I've got plans.

- Keith Jarrett at the Opera! - No, thanks!

In twenty minutes!

Wait a moment! This concert will change your life. Keith Jarrett.

- Vera! What are you doing? - We have to fill the seats.

- You don't need these flyers. - There's still a few minutes.

- Vera, it's sold out. - What?

The concert. The opera house. It's sold out.

Sold out?

Mind moving your coat?

It's time.

Let's get this over with.

Oh.

You're leaving?

There's some people here you haven't insulted yet.

I just want to tell you something. Before you go.

You were a terrible father.

I'll never forget all the shit you did to me.

All the names you called me.

But if I am a disappointment, I did something right.

Goodbye.

Are you okay?

I made you a cocktail.

- Do we have any vodka? - I'm sure we do.

- I'll need the bottle. - We have that too.

Where to next?

Boden.

In Switzerland again.

Oh, God.

How do you think it went?

Tonight?

Yeah.

It was good.

One!

Two!

Three!

I would say that was a disaster.