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♪ ♪

(violin playing Tartini's "Devil's Trill Sonata")

♪ ♪

-(clock chiming) -(stops playing)

(clock stops after six chimes, continues ticking)

♪ ♪

(vocalization from Gazelle Twin's "Unflesh" plays)

-("Unflesh" fades) -(classical piano music plays)

♪ ♪

-(pop music playing) -(lively chatter)

CASSIE: No, nothing.

(indistinct chatter, laughter)

-MIKE: Really? -CASSIE: Yes!

-(indistinct chatter continues) -(cell phone buzzing)

(phone beeps)

(music and chatter continue in other room)

(music and chatter muted)

(playing up-tempo classical music)

-VI: Hey, wombie. -(stops playing)

Have you seen my score for the Saint-Saëns?

It's not in my folder.

Why would I know where your music is?

I don't know.

Sorry for daring to ask a question.

Are you done?

I need to borrow your phones. Mine are fucked.

Not like I'm getting anything done anyways.

You know what they say.

(sarcastically): "Whoo-hoo. Spring break."

I'll be in my room.

-(door closes) -Welcome.

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

They have these amazing vineyards.

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

-Uh-huh. -Mm-hmm, yeah.

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

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

-That's an option. -JOSHUA: Il Veneto.

-You got to get it right. Yes. -(indistinct chatter)

(clears throat)

Oh, hey.

Juju, sweetheart, you girls finished practice already?

Uh, Vi's still going.

Juliet's our youngest.

MIKE: Oh, I thought you had twins.

Two minutes apart.

Someone has to hold the door. Right?

(laughter)

But we heard your news. Juilliard.

Congrats. That's incredible.

Uh, you're thinking of my sister Vi.

She's going to Juilliard next year.

Julie is taking the gap year to consider her options.

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

He did fine arts, college, everything.

Eight years later, he's teaching preschoolers

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

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

there's eight billion people on this planet,

and everybody wants to have

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

The Instagram generation needs to be more realistic

about long-term career prospects.

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

-See? -MIKE: Oh, good.

That's a start.

Dad, what time are we leaving tomorrow?

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

-Lindberg Academy. -MIKE: The arts school?

-Mm-hmm. -Isn't that where that girl...?

Hmm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

JULIET: It's fine.

I didn't really know her.

Okay, hey, sweetie, make sure you got

everything ready for tomorrow.

(softly): Okay.

-MIKE: Nice to meet you. -Bye, guys.

-Um... okay. -(laughter)

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

♪ ♪

(slow piano music playing)

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

Max! Max!

-Hi. -Hey, Vi.

DAVID: Yeah, no problem, Vi!

Just take your time!

Car will unload itself!

Young love.

A father's waking nightmare.

You got your pills?

All right, look.

I know the Juilliard thing hit you hard.

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

But no, listen to me.

You got a big heart.

You got a beautiful face.

-Dad. -And no matter what

those artistes in there tell you,

there's more to life than solos and spotlights.

And any academic school would kill to have you.

All right, I'll get your stuff.

(indistinct conversation, laughter)

(muffled music and chatter in distance)

(paper rustling)

(lively chatter, laughter)

Moira Wilson was one of the finest musicians

ever to grace Lindberg Academy.

For many of you, what happened here six weeks ago

will be your first experience of loss.

Moira's passing is a stark reminder

of the darkness we all face

in our lives and in our artistic pursuits.

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

in our Music Showcase later this quarter.

A long-standing school tradition,

the senior concerto has successfully launched

the careers of many Lindberg graduates over the years.

Following much discussion, we have decided

to rerun the senior concerto competition

-in her memory. -(students murmuring)

Music majors of all disciplines are encouraged to participate.

Submit your repertoire to Dr. Cask.

(murmuring continues)

♪ ♪

(stringed instruments play classical melody)

(piano joins in)

♪ ♪

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

MAX: "Orch dorks"? I resent that.

Did you tell him the news?

Who says I don't know the news?

Um, were you in assembly?

(chuckling): Uh, I had shit to do.

They're rerunning the concerto.

In memory of Mad Moira.

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

She carved symbols all over the wall and threw herself

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

like, no one the entire time she was here?

And she was ambidextrous.

And that's relevant because...?

She wrote with both hands.

Inside out, like Leonardo da Vinci.

The chick was just new levels of freaky.

She was brilliant.

It's just weird, the competition.

I mean, she died six weeks ago.

VI: Yeah, it's kind of soon,

but the showcase is a big opportunity.

I mean, someone else should get a chance.

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

-Really? -MAX: And my golden gal

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

It's an open competition.

Oh, come on, you're with Cask.

Best teacher, best student.

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

it should've been you the first time around.

ALEXIS: Oh, so you pushed her.

-And then... (laughs) -VI: Shut up!

MAX: And then she's just born for greatness.

ALEXIS: It's all coming together.

You gonna change your entry?

It's too late.

And Roger won't let me.

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

"No one ever won anything with Mozart."

(cell phone ringing and buzzing)

Jules, I say this lovingly as your sister:

(whispers): Grow some balls.

Repeat after me:

Roger Melling, you are a drunken,

cockless excuse of a teacher...

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

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

Okay, stop.

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

The claw. It's gonna get you.

(door closes)

Hey, you dropped...

(school bell ringing)

(door opens)

(door creaks shut)

(violin playing classical tune)

(acoustic guitar playing scale)

(various instruments playing)

(piano playing upbeat classical melody)

(chuckling)

-Phrasing. -(playing stops)

Good. Very good.

I see you managed to fit in some practice

between all the drugs and the underage drinking.

I leave the drinking to the experts.

Very funny.

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

Feeling positive?

I was thinking about changing my piece.

I've been looking at Saint-Saëns' 2.

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

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

Cask lets Vi play it.

Henry's methods are his own.

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

(scoffs) You'd make a pig's ear of it.

Is that what you want?

Stick with Herr Amadeus.

He will reward you. He always does.

(door opens)

(door closes)

(piano playing Saint-Saëns' Concerto No. 2 in G Minor)

(amplified heartbeat thumping)

(heartbeat growing louder and faster)

-(heartbeat stops) -(school bell ringing)

Uh, Dr. Cask?

My piece for tomorrow.

♪ ♪

(starts playing)

(inhales deeply)

(shuddering exhale)

(light switch clicks)

(violin playing "Devil's Trill Sonata" in distance)

(violin playing nearby)

-(door creaks) -(violin stops)

(clock ticking)

(wind whistling softly)

(whistling stops)

♪ ♪

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

"The path required this book depicts:

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

♪ ♪

(playing "Devil's Trill Sonata")

♪ ♪

(ticking)

(stops playing)

Tartini.

The composer.

It didn't say the piece.

That's the "Devil's Trill."

By the way, Vivian doesn't know

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

Please don't tell her.

She'll kill me.

Break a leg.

♪ ♪

(knocking)

VI: Jules, open the fucking door!

-(knocking) -Jules, come on!

We're gonna be late! Jules!

Wombie, you owe...

(chuckling): Whoa.

-Fuck. -Oh, this is hilarious.

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

No, it wasn't supposed to...

Fuck!

-(door closes) -Hey, hey.

Come here. Look at me.

Hey.

Head in the game.

Okay?

Okay.

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

(playing mid-tempo classical piece)

Vi.

-Vi. -Jules, not now.

-(Juliet panting) -(music intensifies)

(breathing deeply)

♪ ♪

(exhales)

♪ ♪

(playing Saint-Saëns' Concerto No. 2 in G Minor)

(music concludes)

(applause)

GORDON: Well read, Andy.

Anyone left?

JULIET: I haven't played.

GORDON: Juliet.

Come on down.

(whispers): Come here.

GORDON: So...

it says here you're also treating us

to Saint-Saëns.

Is that right?

When you're ready.

(breathes deeply)

♪ ♪

-(stops playing) -(gasps)

(panting)

♪ ♪

(faint rumbling)

♪ ♪

(rumbling grows louder)

(rumbling continues)

-(applause) -(rumbling fades)

♪ ♪

-(clock chimes) -GORDON: Juliet.

Can you hear me?

There she is.

Uh-uh.

We're waiting on the nurse.

What happened?

You passed out.

How'd I play? Was I good?

GORDON: You did great.

Roger says you've been taking propranolol.

-Is that for anxiety? -Yeah.

You know, with recent events,

you may be feeling a little destabilized.

Is there anything on your mind?

Odd thoughts? Troubling thoughts?

No.

Nothing.

(piano playing soft classical tune)

WILKINS: So, remember, E-flat major.

♪ ♪

An accidental there.

Find where it is.

-Same thing again. -(school bell ringing)

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

(amplified heartbeat thumping)

(muffled chatter)

WILKINS: Turn in your transcriptions to me

by the end of the day, ladies and gentlemen.

(students chattering)

Juliet, you good?

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

You know, you played well.

Has Roger got you doing something different?

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

Well, whatever it is, it's working.

Keep up the momentum, okay?

(softly): Okay.

Vi.

Vi, come on.

Vi, stop.

I'm sorry. I fucked up.

I should've told you I changed my entry.

Changed your entry? You stole my piece.

-(chuckles softly) -What, is something funny?

No, just...

you're the one who told me to switch.

To Beethoven or Grieg or freaking Rachmaninoff.

I mean, you literally had hundreds of options.

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

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

you were embarrassing out there was yourself.

I already knew you were jealous.

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

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

♪ ♪

GIRL: That's a really good point.

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

How are you feeling?

Good.

So, you went for the Saint-Saëns.

Mm-hmm.

You know,

when I suggested that you stick with the Mozart,

I had your best interests at heart.

Still, I suppose it's behind us.

Mm.

-Are you proud of me? -Proud?

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

Uh...

Four years we've studied together.

You're a fine player.

Right.

What if I could be more?

I don't follow.

What if I could be more than fine?

What if I could be great?

What if all I needed was a chance to compete,

to prove myself?

Julie.

I salute your ambition.

But if we all played concertmaster,

we'd never have an orchestra.

Now, you're a good player.

I believe in you.

But you have to manage your expectations.

We can't all be off chasing concerti.

So, what should I be chasing?

Teaching posts.

Chamber work.

You are a sensitive accompanist.

Schools are always looking.

"A sensitive accompanist"?

Mm-hmm.

(scoffs quietly)

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

I've never owned a PlayStation.

Never smoked a cigarette.

Do you know the average age

people lose their virginity in this country?

It's 17.

Next month, I will be a statistical fucking anomaly.

I have given my entire life to music,

and you think I did it so I could sit

at some school hall keyboard

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

Did you vote for her?

What?

The competition.

Did you vote for Vi?

Vivian...

was the more accomplished musician.

Now, let's put this behind us.

No.

I've outgrown you, Roger.

Outgrown me?

Don't act dumb.

I know it. You know it.

If you were a half-decent teacher,

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

And Juilliard?

My fault, too, is it?

I told you, widen the net.

Northwestern, Oberlin-- you might have made it.

But no, you insisted-- only Juilliard.

Juilliard, with its six-percent acceptance rate.

It kills you, doesn't it?

That I actually have ambitions.

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

Footnote? The way you're going,

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

Better that than a deformed drunk

who pretends he chose teaching

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

(gasps)

(trembling breaths)

Julie...

(door opens)

GORDON: We've opted for suspension.

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

Roger is a superlative teacher.

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

WILKINS: You'll need an interim tutor.

I already asked Laura. She has some space.

JULIET: I was wondering if I could have Dr. Cask.

Henry only works with students

who are truly serious about a career in music.

I am serious.

(vocalization from Gazelle Twin's "Unflesh" plays)

ABIGAIL: Are you getting these flyers for the end show?

-(door opens) -We should go.

-(boys chattering indistinctly) -I don't know,

but it's good to support.

BOY: Got it. (chuckles)

ABIGAIL: (scoffs) Whatever.

I would, though.

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

Seriously, though, I feel really bad for her.

Oh, hang on.

♪ ♪

(squishing)

(vocalization from Gazelle Twin's "Unflesh" plays)

("Unflesh" continues)

♪ It's coming at me, coming at me ♪

♪ Coming at me, coming at me, coming at me ♪

♪ Coming at me, coming at me, coming at me ♪

♪ It's coming at me, coming at me ♪

♪ Coming at me, coming at me, coming at me ♪

♪ Coming at me, coming at me, it's coming at me ♪

(vocalizing)

♪ ♪

♪ Ah. ♪

(laughter nearby)

(indistinct chatter)

JULIET: Really?

-MAX: Whoa. -Really? -VI: Oh, Jules, Jesus Christ.

Fuck is that?

-JULIET: Tampons, right, Vi? -(chuckling)

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

(laughs) Okay.

Okay, listen. See?

This is good. This is good.

Now we're-we're even.

What do you mean?

What do you mean, what do I mean?

Wombies.

Together forever, right?

Right.

Hear about Roger?

Yeah. That's some bad karma.

They're putting me with Cask.

Congratulations.

(clock ticking)

(footsteps approaching)

(door opens, closes)

Chromatic scale, from B flat.

(playing scale)

-(stops playing) -In tritones. Both hands.

(playing scale)

(stops playing)

Okay. First movement.

(plays lilting classical piece)

That's Mozart.

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

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

Saint-Saëns.

First movement.

(playing Saint-Saëns' Concerto No. 2 in G Minor)

-Why did you change your piece? -(stops playing)

Um... I don't know.

Why did you change your piece?

I wanted to beat her.

Her technique is no better than yours.

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

Her technique is no better.

Her efficiency is worse.

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

...whatever you are?

She plays like the Devil is at the door.

What about Moira?

Moira?

She beat Vi the first time around.

Is that how she played?

She played like the Devil was in the room.

Music is a blood sport.

If you really wanted that spotlight,

you wouldn't let anything get in your way.

-Not even Vivian. -(door opens)

(door closes)

♪ ♪

(amplified heartbeat thumping slowly)

(heartbeat thumping faster)

-(cell phone chimes) -(heartbeat stops)

Shit.

ALEXIS: She wrote with both hands.

Inside out, like Leonardo da Vinci.

Holy shit.

"One. Invocation."

"Two.

Assurance."

"Three. Triumph."

"Four. Consummation."

"Five. Purification."

Six...

(phone chimes, buzzes)

(chimes and buzzes three times)

♪ ♪

(phone chimes, buzzes)

-(sighs) -(phone whooshing)

MAX: It's tradition.

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

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

Come on. We're late.

JULIET: What if they catch us?

MAX: Never have yet.

(wind whistling)

Hey, Max, wait up.

♪ ♪

(lively chatter and music playing in distance)

(laughing)

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

-(Alexis laughs) -(chuckling): Hey.

The reinforcements have arrived.

Hey, buenas noches.

What's going on, my guy?

-Something for you. -Oh. Thank you.

And something for me?

(kisses) You the man.

Appreciate you.

All right, party people.

Who needs the goods? The doctor has arrived!

♪ I wish that you could see ♪

♪ The devil that's been hanging on my back... ♪

You're a rebel, Jules.

An outcast.

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

Okay.

♪ Everything right now should change ♪

♪ I jump in the pouring rain ♪

♪ And I can't be afraid... ♪

(song fades)

("Belly of the Beast" by Gazelle Twin playing)

(distorted laughter)

(high-pitched, echoing laugh)

♪ ♪

VI: Because it's 3:00 in the morning.

(music continues in distance)

It's done, okay?

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

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

Are you serious right now?

No, I-I'm done.

I-I am fucking done fucking you.

-And stop calling me. -(phone beeps)

(footsteps departing)

MAX: Vi?

Vi, that you?

(Max chuckles)

Holy shit.

Hey, Jules. You okay?

(laughter, lively chatter)

JULIET: Can I ask you something?

Why do you play?

Honestly... (sighs)

it's for the pussy.

Band camp baddies.

(chuckling): Seriously, Max.

(laughs) I don't know.

I guess I always wanted to.

What about you?

Why'd you start?

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

My parents like two things:

expensive vacations...

(Juliet laughs)

...and cheesy Hollywood musicals.

Their favorite's An American in Paris.

Oscar Levant plays Gershwin's Concerto in F.

I swear...

(laughing): I watched that scene, like,

a hundred times between the ages of four and five.

And then I begged and begged,

and eventually-- probably to shut me up--

my parents started us in piano lessons.

I was like a penny in a slot machine.

Everything just made sense.

Vi less so.

Then something happened.

Like what?

She got good, and I didn't.

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

No, your audition was fire.

-You taking new vitamins? -(chuckles)

Uh, I had a good day.

Oh, seriously?

Okay, but...

you have to promise not to tell anyone.

Especially Vi.

I stole Mad Moira's theory book.

(chuckling): Okay, wait.

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

They were cleaning out her mailbox,

and it dropped to the floor.

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

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

Like it's trying to help.

I feel more confident.

Like I'm taking control.

Well, guess we all have our vices.

What about Vi?

Hmm?

Next year, you're going to San Fran.

-She'll be on the East Coast. -(inhales deeply)

Mm, yeah, we'll...

make things work.

So, you love her?

Sure.

Come on, Jules, you know the deal.

Love, hate, et cetera.

No, not really.

(chuckles): What, you never been kissed?

Guess we've all been there.

I'd like to be.

Kissed.

Wow.

(chuckles)

Um, hey, babe.

What's happening?

Uh, we were just...

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

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

I've seen the way you look at him.

And you fucking leading her on

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

Uh, we were just talking.

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

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

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

Vi, what the fuck?

(Vi grunts, groans)

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

-MAX: Vi! -VI: Jules, fucking stop!

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

VI: Jules! Stop!

MAX: Vi, come back!

VI: Stop!

(gasping breaths)

(panting)

(running footsteps)

-VI: What the fuck?! (screams) -(footsteps stop)

(thud)

JULIET: Vi?

(running footsteps)

-Wait! -Jules, where...

Where's Vi?

Oh, Jesus.

Vi! Baby?

I'm coming, okay?

Just hang in there, okay?

It'll be all right.

Just t-two seconds, babe.

(Max sobs)

(running footsteps)

Vi, baby.

Okay. Okay. It's okay.

(Vi groaning)

(groaning): Ma...

Max, Max...

(dialing phone)

Get the others back to bed.

Did you see the light before?

-What light? -(line rings)

Hi. Yeah, uh, I need an ambulance.

Jules, please!

♪ ♪

(distorted, echoing panting)

(bird screeches)

(birds cawing)

♪ ♪

Fuck, Jules.

What happened last night after Vi fell?

You found us, told us what happened.

-We headed back to school. -And Vi?

Juliet.

Principal Gordon wants to see you.

♪ ♪

Hey.

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

GORDON: Ah. Juliet.

Please.

I assume you heard what happened last night.

Your sister and Max gallivanting off school grounds.

-Is Vi okay? -CASK: She's fine.

GORDON: She's suspended.

They'll spend school hours in isolation.

We've been trying to get ahold of your parents

ever since the hospital called us.

Do you know where they might be?

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

So, Vi can play?

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

GORDON: Vivian will be taking a break from piano.

For a while, at least.

-How long? -Six months.

Juilliard-- she's due in the fall.

WILKINS: There's no rushing the healing process.

GORDON: Which leads us to why you're here.

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

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

You're offering me the concerto?

You don't have to make a decision now,

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

I've got finals.

We can get you some extra practice periods.

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

(chuckles) Well, that's decided.

Andy.

WILKINS: You ready?

JULIET:

Vi!

(door opens, closes)

Congratulations.

She'll never forgive me.

And yet you said yes.

Thank you.

You missed a bit.

JULIET: Vi.

Come on, Vi, please.

(quiet chatter, giggling)

(sniffling nearby)

You know what the doc said?

I might never play the same again.

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

No.

You didn't have to.

What are you saying?

You could've called out.

Max said you did for him.

But you let me fall.

Didn't you, Jules?

We used to be so close.

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

but I guess I never realized...

I heard you on the phone last night.

Who were you talking to?

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

I know you cheated on Max.

He has a right to know.

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

won't you?

Something's up with you.

Don't think I can't tell.

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

(footsteps departing)

♪ ♪

(rhythmic tapping)

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

MAX: Hey.

You wanted to talk?

Thanks for meeting me.

Is everything okay?

Not really.

Moira's book. I told you about it.

I wasn't sure at first,

but after the other night, I realized--

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

And not just happening; they're helping.

This is Vi.

-(chuckles softly) -And...

that's Roger.

(turns page)

And this is me, I think.

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

No, obviously not.

These things happened to Moira, too.

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

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

And her dad burnt down their house

with him inside it.

MAX: Christ, that's awful.

But psychosis runs in families.

Does it run in schools, too?

Either these things happened to Moira

and they're happening to me now,

or I'm going crazy just like her.

Okay. Nobody crazy thinks they're crazy.

But let's logic this out.

Moira suffered some pretty horrific personal tragedies.

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

Art therapy's a thing.

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

and now you're projecting them into everyday life?

Subconsciously.

The concerto's in two weeks.

You got finals coming up.

You're tweaking the fuck out, Jules.

I know.

I'm sorry.

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

Actually...

I need to tell you something.

VI: Can we please just talk about it?!

MAX: It's done! It's done!

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

Can you just pay some attention?

Like, you're not even listening!

MAX: What the hell?! I have been paying attention!

(arguing continues indistinctly)

♪ ♪

(muffled scream)

Two days.

You nervous?

If you need anything.

It's our birthday tomorrow.

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

Many happy returns.

Are you free?

(violin playing scales in distance)

(handle rattling)

♪ ♪

Whoa. Hey, it's me.

Door was open.

You okay?

I... I don't think so.

Oh.

(sobbing softly)

Okay.

(chuckles softly)

Where's Vi?

I don't know.

Actually, we...

We broke up.

Good.

♪ ♪

-(both panting) -Come on.

(pants unzip)

(panting heavily)

(chiming)

(gasps, grunts)

(clock stops after four chimes)

(both panting)

(gasping): Oh, shit.

No, no, no.

What's wrong?

Sorry.

(clears throat) This was a bad idea.

Max.

GROUP: ♪ Happy birthday to you ♪

♪ Happy birthday ♪

♪ Dear Vivian and Juliet ♪

(laughter)

♪ Happy birthday to you. ♪

-CASSIE: Make a wish. -(applause)

(murmuring, laughter)

We were so amazed to hear Juju's news.

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

CASSIE: But, I mean, the last time Julie played

a solo in public was...

-second grade? -Yeah. Yeah.

When their first teacher gave Juju a solo

at a concert and she...

I never played solo with Gwen.

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

Anyway, the poor thing went out to play,

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

Uh, so, uh, Henry, uh,

the girls tell us you have had quite the career.

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

I appeared Berliner. Moscow, London.

Now I'm here.

The, uh, caretaker of a new generation.

(Cassie laughs)

(clears throat)

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

"New generation."

Classical music.

The stats aren't promising, are they?

-Cass, shh. -CASK: No, please.

Go on. A little debate never hurt anyone.

-(David sighs) -What stats do you mean?

Well, um, you know,

live audiences-- shrinking, aging.

Only one and a half percent

of music streamed online is classical.

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

I mean, the girls chose this path,

and we see how hard they work,

and, well, we think it's amazing.

-Yeah. -But you have to wonder,

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

is there gonna be anybody left to listen to them?

(clears throat)

Have you ever heard of the composer Tartini?

Mm-mm.

The "Devil's Trill."

CASK: Tartini was a violinist.

One day, he wakes to find a devil

sat upon the end of his bed.

The Devil, fiddle and all.

He asks the creature what he's doing there.

And Satan says that he will teach him a melody

so perfect, so divine

that he will weep for its loveliness.

All Satan asks in return is a single soul.

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

the Devil is gone.

He takes up his pen, scribbles down some notes.

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

All except the "Devil's Trill."

DAVID: Well,

lucky for us the Devil doesn't play piano.

(laughter)

(sighs) Our music isn't easy.

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

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

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

that's not just music you're watching.

It's sacrifice.

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

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

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

real music will live on.

Preserved by those who deserve it.

DAVID: Mm.

Ah.

Here comes the good stuff.

-CASSIE: Oh! (gasps) -DAVID: Oh!

-(patrons gasping, murmuring) -DAVID: Hey. Vi.

-CASSIE: Vi, Vi, get back here. -DAVID: Sweetie, what...

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

I'm so sorry, Henry.

I have no idea what got into her.

CASK: It's a stressful time for everyone.

Are you staying in town?

Yeah, uh, a B and B.

Um, crap coffee, but...

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

Oh, hey, do you have the ticket?

What ticket?

The valet ticket.

CASSIE: Are you drunk?

CASK: Perhaps I could drive Juliet back.

My place is right by the school.

♪ ♪

(fire crackling quietly)

(cell phone chimes)

Make any breakthroughs?

(quiet piano music playing)

I didn't know you conducted.

I won that in Germany. The Leon München.

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

and 20 years ago, but yes.

So... tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

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

There is something inside you.

A seed of greatness.

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

Now, there are people out there in the world

who will try to convince you otherwise.

So you need to practice saying this to yourself:

"I have something."

What are you doing?

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

But you said...

Christ, Juliet.

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

not risk my career making out with a student.

(chuckles softly)

You find something funny?

No.

It's just...

I know.

About you and Vi.

I don't understand.

I saw your number on her phone.

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

You were fucking her, weren't you?

I did nothing without her consent.

Anyway, it's over.

Then why do you keep calling her?

Wow.

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

You know, I used to idolize you,

but you're no different than Roger.

Just acting like a big man in this empty house

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

And you...

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

I've had a bumpy ride.

Starting tomorrow, that's gonna change.

I mean, you said it.

I have something.

And unlike you or Roger,

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

I'm gonna be great.

Oh, yes?

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

Gould, Ashkenazy, Horowitz.

What do all these names have in common?

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

They didn't go to arts high schools.

Didn't you ever wonder why

the Perahias and Pollinis of this world

never sat around winning school concerto competitions?

It's because they jumped that hurdle

before most people know how to walk.

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

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

You already have.

♪ ♪

(sniffles) That's not true.

I'm not like you.

No.

You don't even have the trophy.

You bitch.

Get out!

(panting frantically)

♪ ♪

(panting)

(turns page)

♪ ♪

(deep, shuddering breaths)

(whimpering)

(lighter clicking)

(panting)

(gasping, whimpering)

(hyperventilating)

(birds chirping)

♪ ♪

(panting)

(panting echoing)

(rapid, amplified heartbeat)

(instruments tuning, playing scales)

You're last in the first half.

Unfortunately, Henry won't make it.

He called in sick.

I'm sure everything is fine.

Just letting you know.

(door closes)

(quiet chatter)

GORDON: Good evening.

Thank you all for being here tonight.

For our senior music class, tonight represents

the culmination of an artistic journey

which has lasted four years here at Lindberg.

And so, without further ado,

I cede the stage to our first performer.

(takes deep breath)

(knocking)

-Come in. -(door opens)

I was beginning to wonder...

(door closes)

Hey, wombie.

Max told me what happened.

(sighs)

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

Where'd I screw up?

(chuckles softly)

Second grade?

Your solo with Gwen-- you remember?

Mom did.

You were so excited.

The night came, you walked out there,

and you froze.

Like a little rabbit in headlights.

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

so I went up there.

I went up there, and I took your hand,

and I told you...

Do you remember what I told you?

Hmm?

I told you I would always be there for you.

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

but I made good on that promise.

And in return, you took my teacher,

my boyfriend, my future.

Do you know how hard I worked for Juilliard?

(voice breaking): What I sacrificed?

(chuckling): And you just took it away.

And for what?

What, because I'm better than you?

Were.

You were better than me.

But I'm playing that stage tonight.

Are you kidding?

You're the understudy.

We'll see what the scouts from Juilliard say

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

(chuckles)

Wait, you think Juilliard scouts are here?

I know they are. Alexis said...

Alexis is a moron.

Juilliard doesn't send out scouts.

It's the best arts school in the world.

It doesn't need to.

Oh, Jules, you thought this would change things.

Stop messing with my head.

I don't need to mess with your head,

because here's the thing:

You could walk out there tonight and play

the greatest performance ever seen in the history of music,

and it won't change a thing.

You'll still be Juliet Lowe,

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

We're both failures, you and me,

but at least I have an excuse.

You're just mediocre.

Good luck out there.

(door closes)

♪ ♪

(trembling breaths)

(water splashes)

(gasps)

(vocalization from Gazelle Twin's "Unflesh" plays)

(crowd murmuring)

(whimpers, pants)

I have something. I have something.

-I have something. -(knocking)

-(gasps) -GORDON: Juliet, it's time.

-(quiet chatter) -(distant instruments tuning)

(orchestral instruments tuning)

Give 'em hell, Juliet.

(instruments continue tuning)

(instruments stop tuning)

WILKINS (whispers): See you out there.

(footsteps depart)

(applause)

-(applause continues) -(scattered cheers)

(applause continues)

(applause quiets)

(panting softly)

(person coughs)

(people whispering)

(trembling breaths)

(crowd murmuring)

♪ ♪

GORDON: Juliet.

What's going on?

(panting, whimpering)

(takes shoes off, drops them to floor)

(continues panting, whimpering)

(sobbing)

(faint rumbling)

♪ ♪

(rumbling continues)

♪ ♪

(wind whistling)

(piano playing tense classical piece)

(orchestra joins in)

(music concludes)

(muffled applause)

(applause continues at regular volume)

(scattered cheers, whistling)

(cheering swells)

Juliet.

You're a star.

Yes.

I am.

(grunting softly)

♪ ♪

(quiet chatter)

(phone chimes)

♪ ♪

(music ends)