Original subtitles

I still ask myself if I did the right thing,

when I abandoned his floating city.

And I don't mean only for the work.

The fact is, a friend like that...

a real friend...

you won't meet one again

if you just decide to hang up your sea legs...

if you just want to feel something more solid beneath your feet.

And if then... you no longer hear the music of the Gods around you.

But... like he used to say:

"You're never really done for

as long as you've got a good story and someone to tell it to."

The trouble is... nobody would believe a single word of my story.

It happened every time... that someone would look up... and see her.

It's difficult to understand.

There'd been more than a thousand of us on that ship,

traveling rich folks, immigrants,

strange people... and us.

Yet, there was always one... one guy alone...

who would see her first.

Maybe he was just sitting there eating

or walking on the deck.

Maybe he was just fixing his pants.

He'd look up for a second, a quick glance out to sea...

and he'd see her.

Then he'd just stand there, rooted to the spot, his heart racing.

And every time, every damned time, I swear...

he'd turn towards us, to the ship, towards everybody... and scream...

America!

New York!

The one who sees America first. There's one on every ship.

And don't be thinking it's an accident or some optical illusion.

It's destiny.

Those are people who always had that precise instant stamped on their life.

And when they were kids, you could look into their eyes

and if you looked carefully enough, you'd already see her...

America.

And I've seen a few Americas!

Six years on that ship, five crossings a year:

Europe, America and back.

Always soaking in the ocean!

When you stepped on land, you couldn't even piss straight in the john.

It was steady, the john I mean...

but you'd keep bobbing like an idiot.

You can get off a ship all right, but off the ocean...

I was just closing. What can I do for you?

When I boarded I was 24 years old,

and I only cared about one thing in life... playing the trumpet.

I'm selling it.

A Conn.

Not bad.

Best brass money can buy!

6 pence 10 shillings, it's the best I can do.

That h0rn's my whole life, mister!

But even just being a nobody has got to be worth more than 20 lousy bucks!

If that's how things are... I suppose it's worth barely half a crown!

Shut the door when you leave, please.

Okay, Pops. You win!

You just bought yourself a piece of musical history.

If you want my advice...

go out, treat yourself to a decent meal.

At least let me play it one last time...

Young man, I don't have time to waste!

All right.

Hurry up then, I'm closing.

Thank you.

Two peas in a pod, wouldn't you say?

It's the music you were just playing.

What is it?

It doesn't have a name.

Just a handful of people have had the privilege of hearing it.

That style!

I was wondering since this morning, but...

I can't work out who this amazing piano player is.

I don't think you've ever heard of him.

Who is he?

If I told you this pianist never existed,

I wouldn't be lying.

I don't like secrets.

Come on now, Yank! Who the devil is playing?

That's my secret.

It was "the first year of this frigging century",

as defined by

an unknown colored coal stoker on the Virginian.

Fucking rich ass bastards! Can't lose nothing

but cigarette butts and dirty ass handkerchiefs!

Can't lose no watch.

Not even a beat up Elgin, or a sorry-ass cufflink!

What am I talking about? Not even a fake fucking ring!

Hey, look here, a whole cigar!

Must have been somebody poor at the party.

Look at this shit!

Nasty fuckers!

Damn rich!

Don't forget nothing unless they owe you some money.

What in the skuts you doing here?

"T.D. Lemons."

Howdy do there, Lemon!

Immigrant bastard!

That's the way immigrants do it

having baby on the ship and then leave on the ship another mouth to feed.

That's the big trouble with the Immigration Office!

What can a kid like him be when he grows up?

Another immigrant!

Don't pay those bastards no mind, Lemon.

Go on, lap it up, boy!

They left this one in first class on the piano

hoping some rich guy would take him

and give him a happy life!

And who does the little ape get instead?

A poor worthless beggar!

Poor Danny.

What a pity!

Fuck poverty!

You stinking sewer rats!

TD. was written on the box. Do you rats know what that means?

I forgot, you can't read!

I'll tell you what it means, it means "Thanks Danny"! Thanks, Danny!

They left that boy for me and I'm keeping him!

- And you fuck yourselves! - Ehi, Danny!

What are you going to call the baby?

Hell, I ain't think about that.

To start off, I'll name him after me... Danny Boodman.

Then I'll put T.D. in the middle like the rich folks

put on their cufflinks and shirts.

That'd give it class, to put that in the middle, don't you think?

All the fucking lawyers have got initials in the middle of their names.

One of mine was Jonathan P.T.K. Wonder.

If my son grow up to be a lawyer I swear I'll kill him myself.

But the boy's name is still going to be Danny Boodman T.D. Lemon.

He ain't no fucking duke's son, Danny!

You found him on a Tuesday, Call him "Tuesday"!

You ain't as dumb as you look, colored boy.

I found him the first month of the first year

of this frigging new century.

So I calls him: Nineteen Hundred!

- Nineteen Hundred? But that's a number! - It was a number, now it's a name.

Danny Boodman... TD. Lemon Nineteen Hundred!

Danny, your little bambino is not so happy

Come on, hurry. Hurry up! Don't worry, your mama's here.

Damn!

How can something that small shit so much?

And that's how little Nineteen Hundred grew up

inside that cradle as big as a ship.

But since Danny was afraid they'd take him away

on account of some business concerning documents and visas,

the boy lived his early years

always hiding in the belly of the Virginian.

Okay, now try one for yourself.

Put your finger up here against these words so the letters can't run off on you.

"Man".

All right, keep going.

- "Ma". - Just a little bit more.

Boy, you read like a god, Lemon.

Now go on, put them all together, kind of like them boiler valves.

Come on

"Man... go... Mama."

Mango Mama. All right. Keep going!

"Yank... my... chain."

Danny, why are you laughing so much?

Because these are names of horses. Don't that make you laugh?

|"m just crazy about these horses' names. Look

at this one here, ran yesterday in Cleveland.

"Happy Hoofers".

Listen to this.

- "Sassy Lassy". - Sassy Lassy!

And this one.

"Red Hot Mama".

What's a mama, Danny?

A mama?

Well... A mama's a horse.

- A horse? - Racehorse.

Matter of fact, you know what I say? Mama's the best horse in the world.

Thoroughbred. You bet on a mama, you always win.

"Tano D'Amato. The King of Lemons."

Dad, put your finger here and read.

TD. does fit mean “Thanks, Danny“.

Who's this pansy ass?

That's enough reading for tonight.

Too much reading is bad for you.

What else is bad, Danny?

Everything off the Virginian is bad.

Everything.

They got sharks on the land, they eat you alive.

You keep away from them, you hear?

Danny, what's an orphanage?

Well, an orphanage is like... a great big prison

where they lock up folks that ain't got kids.

So if I wasn't with you, they would put you in an orphanage?

You got that right, little Lemon. Nighty-night.

Watch out! Danny!

- Danny! ' Oh, my God!

Come on! Call the doctor!

Call the doctor! Go get a doctor! Go!

Danny, holy cow, talk to me!

Ain't nothing but a pat on the back.

Holy Shoot...

and Times

were Good

was disqualified.

Saucy Bossy...

It took him three days to go toes up, old Danny.

He let go on the sixth race in Chicago.

Drinkable Water by two lengths over Vegetable Soup

and five over Blue Foundation.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil..."

In the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Music.

Nineteen Hundred was eight years old then.

He'd made the trip between Europe and America about fifty times, I imagine.

The ocean was his home.

He never set foot on dry land. Never.

He'd seen it from the ports a hundred times... but he never got off the boat.

Problem was, as far as the world was concerned, he didn't even exist.

There wasn't a city, a parish, a hospital,

jail or baseball team

that had his name any place.

He didn't have a country,

he didn't even have a birth date, no family.

He was eight years old, but officially

he had never even been born.

Captain! Captain, wake up!

- What's his name? - Nineteen Hundred.

Not the song, the boy.

Nineteen Hundred.

Like the song!

Nineteen Hundred, all of this is

entirely against the regulations!

Fuck the regulations!

But I don't understand... what the record has to do with any of this.

This record shouldn't exist.

The only existing matrix was destroyed right after it was cut.

This is a matrix.

Quite handy for on-the-spot recordings, that sort of business.

H0w'd you get your hands on this?

I spent the better part of a day putting the bits and pieces together.

Found them by accident, hidden inside one of those two pianos.

I bought them from a second-hand dealer

who'd emptied out an old hospital ship down at Plymouth.

It's over there, mate.

- Where are you from? - Liverpool.

- What do you do? - I'm a barber.

- Sign him up. - Thanks very much.

Next! What's your trade?

I'm a carpenter

- I'm a good mechanic. - Get out! Next.

- What do you do? - I play the trumpet.

We've already got musicians on board. Next!

Where the hell's he going?

- What's that? - I don't know.

When you don't know what it is... it's jazz!

It was the happiest day of my life.

All those people, hope in their eyes,

the goodbyes, the sirens and that big floating world starting to move.

It felt like one big party, a huge fair, just for me.

But just three days later the ocean got tired of the festivities.

Hey, Conn.

What's the matter?

Lose your sea legs?

You're the new trumpet man, aren't you? And you blow a Conn.

Come with me. I have a cure for your misery.

Follow me.

Just take the brakes off. Please

that's crazy

Trust me.

Just take the brakes off.

Hop on next to me.

What, are you some kind of nut case!

You better get on now or you never will.

Tell me something, do you have children?

Oh, shite, they're gonna lock you up in an orphanage one of these days!

He's nuts.

- Mama! - I see you know your horses!

- Yes, just a little. - Good man!

Good evening, Captain.

Care for a ride?

Tell me again, how big the fucking window was!

It was a big fucking window!

We're going to be shoveling coal on this ship 'til eternity!

No shit!

At least you know what you'll be doing when you grow up!

- Hey, Conn. - What?

- You're from New Orleans, right? - How did you know that?

I love that town.

I haven't been there in a while.

In the winter it's beautiful.

And in March...

you can always count on one afternoon.

When you least expect it,

the fog slides in, a milky barrier,

that hangs just below the street lamps

and cuts everything...

like a white blade.

It's magic!

The houses lose their top floors, trees lose their branches,

St. Louis Cathedral loses its spires.

The people passing by, they lose their heads.

So from the neck up, everything disappears.

All you can see in Jackson Square

is a bunch of decapitated bodies, stumbling around

and bumping in to each other, saying:

"How's your mama, man?"

That's it!

Too bad it doesn't last long.

But how do you know all these things?

You know, ever since I came on board,

I've been hearing a lot of talk about a guy.

He's supposed to have been born on this ship,

and never been off it since.

Crazy story!

Twenty years without ever setting foot on land!

Twenty-seven.

They say this guy makes music that's never been heard before.

I've heard of him, too.

First off,

I thought you were the guy.

- But then, something didn't add up. - Of course.

I figured:

"|f he's Nineteen Hundred, how could he know New Orleans?"

Cause... you've been to New Orleans?

What if I told you I'd never set foot in that town, would you believe me?

Whoever you are...

Max Tooney.

Glad to meet you.

How are we doing?

We're supposed to blow it up,

not wait for it to be eaten by the fishes!

You're not going to blow up a goddamn thing 'cause my best friend's on this ship.

- You'd all be responsible for murder. - Get him out of here!

Do whatever you want, but get him off my case!

I'm not making this up and I'm not crazy.

If I tell you there's a man aboard the Virginian,

Jesus Christ, it means there is a man aboard the Virginian!

We cleaned that scuttle from stem to stern.

Not even doorknobs were left. Only dynamite. Dynamite. Lots of dynamite.

How can you be so sure there's still a man on board?

If you've any proof, out with it. Because I'm

the horse's arse who has to throw that switch.

I'm sure he's there.

I spent the best years of my life on the Virginian.

End of the line, boys!

Well done!

What the hell do you think about when you're playing?

Where does your mind go when you hit the keys?

Last night I was in a beautiful country.

Women had perfume in their hair, everything glowed.

And it was full of tigers.

He traveled and each time he ended up some place different.

In the heart of London, on a train in the middle of the country,

on the edge of a giant volcano,

in the biggest church in the world,

counting the columns and staring up at the crucifixes.

He traveled.

America!

Why the hell don't you get off?

Just once? One time!

See the world for yourself? With your own eyes?

Do you ever think about it?

You could do anything you wanted to.

People would go crazy for you.

You could make beaucoup bucks, man.

Get yourself the finest house.

Get yourself a wife.

Why not?

God knows you can't spend the rest of your life

traveling back and forth like some yo-yo.

The world is out there.

Nothing but a gangplank to cross.

And what's a gangplank?

A few stupid steps.

Christ, everything is waiting at the bottom of those steps!

Why don't you just do it?

One time.

Why don't you just get off?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

I think land people

waste a lot of time wondering why.

Winter comes and you can't wait for summer.

Summer comes and you live in dread of winter.

That's why you never tire of traveling,

always chasing some place far away,

where it's always summer.

Doesn't sound like a good bet to me.

Hold it! Stop everything!

Forgive me for allowing myself to...

Your music was so strong.

Do you want a cigarette?

You don't look too happy to be going to America.

It's not America.

It's everything I leave behind.

Until a few years ago, I know only my field.

The world, for me, started and ended there, in that little piece of land.

I'd never walked down the main street of a city.

Maybe you can't understand that.

I understand perfectly.

I know someone who went through something very very similar.

And one fine day did his field go dry, too?

And did his wife also run off with a priest?

And did the fever take... his five children?

No, but he ended up alone, too.

Then he is more lucky than me.

I still have a daughter,

the young one. She survived.

It's for her that I decide one day to fight against my bad luck

and travel all over without a destination.

And then one day,

when I go through one of the many towns I never see before,

I come to a hill,

and then,

I see the most beautiful thing in my life.

The sea.

The sea?

I'd never seen it before.

It was like lightning hit me,

because I hear the voice.

- The voice of the sea? - Yes.

The voice of the sea.

I never heard it.

The voice of the sea, it is like a shout.

A shout big and strong. Screaming and screaming.

And the thing it was screaming was:

"You!

With shit instead of brains!

Life is immense! Can you understand that?"

Immense.

I never think of it that way.

A revolution was in my head.

That's how I suddenly decided to change my life,

to start afresh.

Change life, start afresh.

Tell that to your friend.

Nineteen Hundred!

Nineteen Hundred!

It's Max Tooney, your friend.

Come on out, Nineteen Hundred,

I'm your friend, too!

Even if we've never met.

Don't worry, no cops!

You said something about a piano. Where was it exactly?

We found it over there.

Nineteen Hundred!

On the violin, yours truly, Phil Douglas!

On bass, Freddy Loyacano!

Max Tooney on trumpet!

And finally, on piano,

Danny Boodman TD. Lemon Nineteen Hundred!

The greatest!

For the last time, 1900, just...

Just the normal notes.

Come on, come on, come on.

End of the line!

Where do you get it?

What?

The music.

I don't know.

You see that woman over there for example?

She looks like someone who just killed her husband with the help of a young lover,

and now she is running off with the family jewels.

Don't you think this music's her?

Damn, it's true!

Do you see that guy over there?

He can't forget a thing.

Listen to his music.

And look at that one there.

She looks like a prostitute who's thinking of becoming a nun.

That's incredible!

Now, look at this one.

See how he walks?

I'd say he's in someone else's suit,

judging by the way he wears it.

I'd say he's a stowaway, slipped into first class,

looking for a little amorous adventure.

This one's got America stamped in his eyes.

He'll be the first one to see it.

I can already hear him screaming.

L'America!

I'm going to get my money back.

That'll be the day!

"Singleton Lee Claire."

You don't know me,

but I was wondering if we could have a little chat.

A little chat? What about?

About anything, like weather conditions...

Anything. You pick or chuck the subject.

Is this an obscene phone call?

Jesus Christ!

You the face with the 20 dollar name?

Wait! We just want to talk with you!

Come on!

Wait! We just want to talk with you!

Where the hell are we?

Stop, you little son of the bitch!

Come on!

We don't want to hurt you!

We're players, man, Side men!

Bon appetite!

You can say that again, brother. You can say that again.

Are you the one who plays ten kinds of jazz rolled into one?

To tell the truth I've never counted them, I'm just a piano player.

Well, you'd better start counting, buddy. The man who invented jazz sent us here.

Really?

- What does he want with me? - He challenges you to a piano duel!

Jelly Roll, what's the reason for a trip to Europe on a steamer,

when you've never set foot on anything bigger than the Mississippi river?

I don't give a damn about Europe!

The only reason I'm hopping on this tub

is because of a gentleman I want to meet.

They say he plays a hot piano!

But I hear he has a little thing about setting foot on land.

Is he talking about me?

You bet he's talking about you!

He says, "Hey, Jelly,

someone plays better piano than you!"

So I say to myself:

"Self! How can this guy play so well

when he don't even have the balls to get off the goddamn ship?"

"Hey! Hot damn, Jelly!

You invented jazz!"

Well, I say, "Go down! You can afford a first class ticket to Europe!

And the boat that's gonna take ya,

just by lifting a finger."

Get a shot of it, boys! Get a shot!

Tell the truth, are you scared?

I don't know.

Why a duel? What happens when you have a duel?

He didn't have any sporting sense. He didn't give a damn who won.

It was the rest that amazed him. All the rest.

He's a black man!

I believe

you're sitting in my seat.

You're the one who invented jazz, right?

That's what they say.

And you're the one

who can't play unless you have the ocean under your ass, right?

That's what I say.

Will excuse me?

Jelly Roll Morton did not play, he caressed those notes.

It sounded like a silk slip sliding down a woman's body.

His hands were butterflies, so light.

He got his start in the famed 'tenderl0in' district of New Orleans,

And 0h, did he learn to stroke the keyboard in those whore houses.

People doing the deed upstairs didn't want any uproar.

They wanted music would slip behind the curtains that

and underneath the beds without disturbing their passion.

That's the kind of music he played.

And in that,

he truly was... the best.

Your turn, sailor.

Come on!

What is he doing?

"Silent Night"?

Isn't it a Christmas carol?

Does he sense that it's a contest?

You think "Silent Night" is jazz?

Is it Christmas already?

Jelly, show us some...

What is wrong with you?

I can't help it. This music makes me cry.

The whole crew bet on you!

I put a year's pay on the line!

And you sit here sniffling? Now you cut that out and start thinking your music!

- Can I bet, too? - No!

Bad luck to bet on yourself.

But I want to bet on him! He's the greatest!

You are crazy! You know that?

But that way, if you lose, you'll get your money back!

It's exactly the same piece of music, darling.

We are really end of the line

unbelievable!

Come on, you can play better than that

Jelly, you know how to sink the ship!

You stick this up your ass.

Hey, Max!

Give me a cigarette, will you?

You're not handling this well!

Just give me a cigarette.

You don't smoke!

What is the matter with you? You could lick this guy with one hand! Come on!

Are you gonna give me a cigarette?

We'll be shoveling coal for 200 years!

- And all you can say... - Just give me a fucking cigarette!

You asked for it, asshole.

You smoke it.

I don't know how.

Jelly Roll Morton spent the rest of that trip locked in his cabin.

When we got to Southampton, he got off the Virginian and went back to America.

I remember Nineteen Hundred watched him as he walked off down the deserted dock

and all he said was...

Fuck jazz, too!

That's just what he said: "Fuck jazz, too!"

This is an incredible story! Incredible!

Did I miss anything important?

- You could say that! - Damn!

Don't worry, our friend will fill you in later. Won't you?

You can count on it!

- Thanks! - He's so good at telling tales.

This is no tale, sir!

But there's nobody here.

It's because there's too many of us, we've scared him.

I'm sorry. Now, you leave this ship or I'll have to have you arrested.

Get back to work. Quickly!

- Give me another chance. - Piss off, friend!

Noon tomorrow, this ship is history!

Stop or I'll shoot!

Got you!

Hey, Pops, easy. It's me.

You again, is it?

Yeah. Lower that cannon, will you?

Sell your instrument and then steal it back again, that's an old trick!

I should have guessed you're a thief.

No, no, I was looking for this.

And what do you need that for?

It's a matter of life and death. And I need a phonograph, too.

A thief and A liar!

Look, Pops, I don't have a lot of time!

Well, I do, seeing as I have a gun!

And now that I think of it,

since when were records made on board steam ships?

If that music really was played by your friend,

it means that sometime in his life he got off that ship! Correct?

Not a chance, Pops!

He cut this passionate recording personally.

I think it's his best work,

but he didn't jump ship to do it,

not even for a second.

The sky's the limit, Mr. Nineteen Hundred.

If this record sells like hot-cakes, and we think it will,

you'll go far, Mr Nineteen.

Do you mind if I call you Nineteen?

This is going to hurt, isn't it?

Ready now, gentlemen.

On the count. And one, two, three.

Awh, Nineteen!

That is one amazing piece of music.

What is it called?

Oh, it's going to have people crying buckets.

It's got to have the right title.

Something catchy like: "Swinging in the Breeze" or...

You were great, as usual.

"Sweet Nineteen"...

You are going to be big time.

And all you gotta do is take that big step.

What big step?

Getting off! Getting off these lousy planks of wood

and going after...

Going after your fame and fortune.

I don't mean to butt in, fellas, but

with this,

you can have anything you want

and never have to set foot off this boat.

We'll print millions of copies.

So that people all over the world can hear

your wonderful music, Nineteen.

Mr Nineteen?

I won't let my music go anywhere without me.

- Hey, no! Don't touch! - What are you doing? You can't do that!

We have a contract, you can't go back now!

I always go back.

What are you doing here...

Miss...

I'd be...

pleased...

Miss...

I'd... I'd be thrilled...

if you would accept this...

small...

token...

Hey, Miss Padoan!

What are you doing here all alone, counting the waves?

The captain said we'll be passing the Tropic of Cancer soon.

Great! At last I'll have something to look at.

Did you ever notice how the sea changes color? Ten times a day!

Even more.

I could look at the sea all day long.

You know, foreigners don't ever look at the sea. It scares them.

At least, that's what I heard.

That's not true.

Once, my father told me

he heard the ocean's voice.

Oh, really? What did it say?

I can't tell you, it's a secret.

And secrets should be kept.

It's really coming down now! Let's get back inside!

Let me take your arm

Next.

Next.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Please! Miss?

I have to talk to you.

You're meeting your father, aren't you?

Yes. How did you know?

I think I've met him.

On this ship,

quite a few years ago.

I don't know if he took the same ship.

I'm sure of it.

He has a musette. Yes?

I think we played together.

I don't know if he'd remember, but...

say hello to him.

I will.

But how did you know who I was?

It's very strange, no?

It's a secret.

And secrets should be kept.

Although I think your father felt differently back then.

Please accept this...

small musical token.

I'm sorry, but I can't hear you!

I want you to...

accept this small...

token.

I can't hear you!

Good luck!

Thank you. Good luck to you, too!

Why don't you come and visit us some day?

We live on Mott Street, number 27.

My father has a fish shop.

Maybe!

Padoan, okay! Next!

Watch your step lady

He never mentioned her to me again,

and I never asked. At least not for the next twelve crossings.

Besides, he was happy, just like always.

His popularity was at its peak.

Then, one evening in spring,

halfway between Genoa and New York, right in the middle of the ocean...

In three days, when we get to New York,

I'm getting off this ship.

Cat got your tongue?

No, I'm glad.

But, all of a sudden?

My man!

That's aces!

I have to see something down there.

What?

The ocean.

You're pulling my leg?

You've seen nothing but the ocean since the day you were born.

Yeah, but from here!

I want to see it from there, it's not the same thing at all.

Wait till we dock, lean over the side

and take a good look! It's the same thing.

No, it's not.

From land you can hear its voice.

You don't hear that from the ship.

What do you mean "its voice?"

Its voice.

It's like...

a big scream.

Telling you that life is immense.

Once you've finally heard it, then you really

know what you have to do to go on living.

I could stay here forever...

but the ocean

would never tell me a thing.

But if I get off... live on land for a couple of years,

then I'll be normal.

Just like the others.

And then, maybe one clay, I'll make it to the coast,

look up, see the ocean

and hear it scream.

I don't know who's been telling you all this bullshit,

or if you're just making it up.

But, you wanna know what I think?

I think...

the real reason you want off this ship...

is the girl.

It's always the girl.

But even if it's not the reason,

that suits me just fine.

Because I've always wanted you to leave this ship

and play for the people on land,

and marry a nice woman, and have children

and all those things in life which are not immense,

but are worth the effort.

You'll come visit me, won't you Max,

on land?

Of course.

That way you'll introduce me to the mother of your children.

And invite me for Sunday dinner.

I'll bring the dessert and a bottle of wine.

And you'll tell me I shouldn't have.

And, while you're showing me

around your house, shaped like a ship,

your wife will be cooking a turkey.

And then we'll sit at the table.

I'll tell her she's an excellent cook.

She'll say how you talk about me all the time.

You know,

I'm going to give you my camel coat.

You'll cut a fine figure when you get down there.

How many people I'd seen saying goodbye on the docks

without giving a damn.

But when I said goodbye to Nineteen Hundred,

it was a real blow.

We laughed, we kept saying "see you soon",

but inside, we both knew

we'd never see each other again.

Goodbye, Nineteen Hundred!

- Good luck, man! - Have a good time!

Don't forget to wear your woolies in winter!

Take care, Nineteen Hundred!

Write to us sometimes!

Send my regards to Broadway

What'd he do, step in shit?

Maybe he just forgot something.

Maybe he's forgotten why he's getting off!

What do you want?

He was strange for a long time after that.

He wouldn't talk to anyone.

He preferred keeping to himself for days and days.

He seemed taken by very personal matters.

Then, one day, while I was sitting at the bar...

Thanks for the coat, Max, it fit like a glove.

It was a real shame.

But I'm much better now.

I'm done with all that.

It's good all times

I left the Virginian on August 21st, 1933,

with my leave papers and back pay.

Everything in order.

I knew that sooner or later, I'd have been through with the ocean.

So that's what I did.

I heard no more

about Nineteen Hundred or the Virginian.

Not that I ever forgot them,

on the contrary.

During the war, I'd always ask myself:

"Who knows what Nineteen Hundred would do if he were here?"

"Who knows what he'd say?"

"'Fuck war', he'd say!"

But said by me,

it wasn't the same thing.

A lot of time's gone by, you know.

Who's to say he didn't leave?

Maybe he actually went to that fish shop and asked for that woman.

Maybe.

Hey, Conn.

What's the matter? You lose your sea legs?

Where the hell did you find that record?

What have you been up to all these years?

Making music.

Even during the war?

Even when no-one was dancing anymore.

Even when the bombs were falling.

And I kept playing...

'Til the ship got here.

Call this a ship?

It's more like a mountain of dynamite about to explode.

A bit dangerous, don't you think?

And you, Max?

Where's your trumpet?

I gave it up as well, a while back.

But, you know, now I'm in the mood

for starting again.

I'm busting with new ideas.

Let's start a duo, you and me.

Or our own band.

The Danny Boodman

TD. Lemon Nineteen Hundred Big Band'.!

It gets the blood going!

We'd be a smash!

Come on, Nineteen Hundred. Come with me! Let's get off.

We'll watch the fireworks from the pier!

And then we'll start from scratch.

Sometimes that's the way you have to do it.

You go right back to the beginning.

"You're never really done for

as long as you've got a good story and someone to tell it to."

Remember?

You told me that.

Well, what a stack of stories you've got now!

The world would be hanging on your every word,

and they'd go crazy for your music.

Believe me.

All that city...

You just couldn't see an end to it.

The end?

Please?

Could you please just show me where it ends?

It was all very fine on that gangway.

And I was grand, too,

in my overcoat.

I cut quite a figure.

And I was getting off.

Guaranteed.

There wasn't a problem.

It wasn't what I saw that stopped me, Max.

It was what I didn't see.

Can you understand that?

What I didn't see.

In all that sprawling city, there was everything

except an end.

There was no end.

What I did not see

was where the whole thing came to an end.

The end of the world.

You take a piano...

The keys begin, the keys end.

You know there are 88 of them and nobody can tell you any different.

They are not infinite...

you are infinite.

And on those keys, the music that you can make is infinite.

I like that.

That I can live by.

But you get me up on that gangway and you roll out in front of me

a keyboard of millions of keys. Millions and billions of keys that never end.

And that's the truth, Max, that they never end.

That keyboard is infinite.

And if that keyboard is infinite, then on it there's no music you can play!

You're sitting on the wrong bench!

That's God's piano.

Christ! Did you see the streets?

Just the streets, there were thousands of them!

How do you do it down there? How do you choose just one?

One woman.

One house.

One piece of land to call your own,

one landscape to look at.

One way to die.

All that world just weighing down on you

You don't even know

where it comes to an end!

Aren't you ever just scared of breaking apart with the thought of it?

The enormity of living in it?

I was born on this ship.

And the world passed me by,

but two thousand people at a time.

And there were wishes here,

but never more than fit between the prow and the stern.

You played out your happiness, but on a piano that was not infinite!

I learned to live that way.

Land...

Land is a ship too big for me.

It's a woman too beautiful.

It's a voyage too long.

Perfume too strong.

It's music, I don't know how to make.

I can never get off this ship.

At best...

I can step off my life.

After all...

I don't exist for anyone.

You're the exception, Max.

You're the only one who knows I'm here.

You're a minority.

And you'd better get used to it.

Forgive me, my friend.

But I'm not getting off.

Hey, Max!

Picture the scene at the Golden Gates.

Some guy searching a list trying to find my name and not finding it.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Nineteen Hundred."

"Niemann, Nightingale,

Ninestock."

"Nittledeen?"

"You see, sir, I was born on a ship."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Born, raised and died on a ship.

Maybe I'm not registered there."

"Shipwreck?"

"No, six and a half tons of dynamite."

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.

Except that I lost an arm."

"An arm?"

"Yes, in the explosion."

"You should be able to find one over there".

"Which one do you say is missing?"

"The left, sir."

"|'m dreadfully sorry!"

"We only seem to have two rights."

"Two right arms?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"Would you mind awfully if you..."

"|f I, what?"

"Well, if you'd take a right arm instead of a left?"

"Well, all things considered,

better a right arm than nothing, I suppose."

"Couldn't agree more!"

It's no laughing matter, Max.

What a cock-up...

spend eternity with two right arms!

How would you make the sign of the cross?

Hey, Max!

Imagine the music I could play with two right arms!

Hope I can find a piano up there!

What would you have done in my shoes?

I don't know.

I would probably have felt quite useless.

Sooner or later all stories end,

and there's nothing else to add.

Anyhow, thanks, Pops.

Hey, Conn!

There's just one thing I don't get.

Who hid the broken record inside the piano?

You're lookin' at him.

So, you weren't so useless after all.

Hey, Conn!

Here. Take your trumpet.

You'll be needing it.

Never mind the money.

A good story is worth more than an old trumpet.

Okay, POPS-