The Tour (screenplay: continued)

7:00 pm. Walt Disney Concert Hall. Natalie enters a large barren building where she will have her orchestra audition. She walks through the hall and sees multiple violinists sitting nervously. Natalie opens up her binder to scan her sheet music before her audition. Alonzo a 6 foot 4 inch man with a black goatee and Coke bottle glasses, opens the metal door and shouts “Hermann, Natalie,” looking at his roster. The previous violinist walks past the other violinists without saying anything.

Natalie picks up her instrument and walks through the double doors, the doors giving a harsh slam after her. Natalie walks in. The concert hall is big and red and one spotlight shines on Natalie. There are three judges. All of them are middle-aged white men. One of them is John Sharpley, the concertmaster of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Another is Pierre LaBougiere, the principal bassist, and the final judge is Phillipe Brighton, the conductor of the orchestra. They do not look at her when she walks in because they are still writing comments about the last auditioning person. Natalie doesn’t say anything. She just looks out into the audience. Her palms are sweatier than the guy in the song “Lose Yourself” and she feels nauseous, like she wants to throw up. But she holds back the vomit in her throat and takes a few deep breaths. John, Pierre, and Phillipe all look up at her.

Pierre: Please take out Don Juan, measures 94-116.

Natalie puts her violin on her shoulder rest, and begins, but because she is so nervous, she plays the wrong notes and sounds out of tune. She tries to loosen up but she cannot. Pierre claps his hands.

John: We are finished. Thank you.

Natalie stands in utter silence. She cannot say a word.

The scene cuts to Natalie walking alone through the city of L.A. holding her violin. Her expression is numb, she can only think of how badly she screwed up. She sees a bar to her right and turns into the parking lot. She walks into the bar. Sad jazz music plays over the loudspeaker.

Bartender: What can I get you?

Natalie: Heineken.

She hands him a five dollar bill. He turns his back, grabs a bottle of Heineken beer out of the refrigerator and sets it on the counter.

Natalie: Thanks.

The bartender turns back to his work, not saying anything.

Natalie looks to her right and sees a white woman with curly brown hair wearing a black leather jacket and black leather pants drinking a shotglass filled with Jack Daniel’s Whiskey. She decides to talk out of the blue because she is lonely and the bartender won’t talk to her. She thinks this woman will at least care to listen to her struggles.

Natalie: I had a rough day.

The woman stares ahead and continues to drink her whiskey.

Natalie: I had an audition and I totally bombed it. Just fell flat on my face, I mean not literally, but I just started off playing Don Juan and I freaked out and totally fucked up. I am such an idiot, I mean how could I screw up so easy?

The woman doesn’t answer, just continues drinking her whiskey.

Natalie sighs.

Natalie: I guess you don’t care. That’s cool. I barely know you anyway. Good night.

She kicks back the Heineken with one big swig, gasps and goes “Ahh.” She grabs her violin.

The woman: I fucked up, too.

Natalie turns around.

The woman: What was the audition for?

Natalie: LA Phil.

The woman: I was there, too.

Natalie: Really? I just got back from there and didn’t see you.

The woman: I had my audition at 9 am. Violas.

The woman turns back to her drink and grabs some peanuts from the little glass bowl on the counter.

The woman: What’s your name?

Natalie: Natalie.

The woman pauses, then after taking a sip of her beer, says: I’m Desiree.

Desiree turns away from Natalie and calls to the bartender.

Desiree: I’ll have another. Keep ’em coming. I could use all the shots tonight.

She sets a ten dollar bill on the counter. The bartender slides her another shot.

Another woman, Alisha, walks into the bar and sits down. She is a short Latina woman carrying a cello.

Alisha: I’ll have a ginger ale.

Alisha hands the bartender a five dollar bill. She turns to Desiree and Natalie and looks bashfully.

Alisha: I’m driving back, so I can’t drink. I’m Alisha. What brings you guys here tonight?

Desiree: I bombed an audition.

Natalie: Same.

Alisha: Me three. What orchestra did you guys audition for?

Natalie and Desiree say in unison: LA Phil.

Alisha gapes.

Alisha: No way! I was just there, but you guys must not have seen me. They put the cellos in a different part of the concert hall.

Natalie and Desiree continue to look at the woman in silence. Natalie suddenly gets this look in her eyes, and puts her drink down.

Natalie: I think we should go on a road trip.

Desiree: But we just met you. I’m not going on a road trip with some stranger.

Natalie: But what else are we going to do with the rest of our lives if we can’t win an orchestra audition? Most musicians spend their lives preparing for this big thing and they end up failing and beating themselves up because they didn’t get in the orchestra they wanted, and I’m not about to mope for the rest of my life just because I couldn’t make it into the LA Phil.

Desiree looks at her in silence.

Alisha: What time should we hit the road?

Natalie: Be at my apartment by 7 am in the morning.

Desiree: I can’t. I have work.

Alisha: Same here.

Natalie: So do I, but I’ll just lie and say I’m sick or something.

Desiree: That’s stupid. Don’t lie to your boss and not come in. You need the money.

Natalie: But you see, this is my dream. I have always wanted to go on tour, but I never knew how it would work out. I am miserable in this barista job, and this is my only shot to make this work. Come on, guys, you;ve gotta trust me.

Desiree and Alisha look at her for about a minute long, then Desiree sighs.

Desiree: Alright, fine. See you at 7.

Natalie: See you guys bright and early.

She leaves the bar, putting on her leather jacket.

Desiree and Alisha look behind her as she leaves and just sit there.

Alisha takes a drink of ginger ale.

Alisha: Do you need a ride? I haven’t been drinking.

Desiree: That would be lovely.

She clumsily gets up. Alisha holds her and helps her out of the bar so she doesn’t fall down.

SCENE CUTS TO Natalie’s apartment, her bedroom. Natalie lies anxiously in her bed. She is single, unmarried, with no kids. She moved out of her parents’ house to attend conservatory in Manhattan and moved to Los Angeles to “follow her dreams.” She drinks more alcohol, making herself even more intoxicated. We see a bottle of Heineken, an open bottle of Absolut vodka and a half empty bottle of Yellow Tail moscato. Her fluffy white poodle, Scruffy, walks around Natalie. She could potentially get alcohol poisoning from drinking so much.

A voice that just happens to be Natalie’s inner critic appears, dressed in a professional looking suit with coattails. She holds a martini and sits in the grey beanbag chair across from Natalie’s bed.

Natalie’s inner critic: You idiot. Why would you think you can just quit your job and go off on some tour? You need to have money to do such a thing.

Natalie’s inner critic rubs her thumb, index and middle fingers together.

Natalie’s inner critic: And guess how much you have in your bank account? Almost nothing. Do you think anyone cares about your dreams?

Natalie burrows her head further in her pillow. She tries to fight the nasty inner critic from telling her to backtrack on her decision, but the inner critic goes over to her bedside, caresses the side of Natalie’s face while she is lying awake. She whimpers, tears falling down her cheeks. She puts her tear-stained face in her hands and starts crying.