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| [The Perfectionist gestures to fly the piano harp back up into the hanging position. The Performer is splayed on the floor beneath it.] | |
| PERFECTIONIST: | [to camera] I've always been a fanatic about pianos. My concern is not about the sound so much as the action. For me it's all about the draft of the keys. Tactile grab and immediacy. This is 'tactile immediacy'. |
| [He hits a tuning fork. The Performer clutches his chest and begins his slow journey back to consciousness. In the speech that follows he comes unsteadily to his feet, still unseen by the Perfectionist.] | |
| Bearings, levers and linkages. Every one of them requires time to complete its cycle. I want no slack! Shallow draft on the keys, everything else cranked down two turns past tight. I want to feel the musculature of the music [the Performer feels his right arm]. I don't want to think about the instrument [the Performer looks at his hands] that's between me and my mental image of the music. | |
| [The Performer is on his feet now. He groans groggily. The Perfectionist swivels around, surprised.] | |
| PERFORMER: | It's the nightmare where you come to consciousness in a circus cage surrounded by sleeping tigers. You feel your way around the perimeter, looking for a way out. There is no door ... no way out of the cage ... and then you turn ... and realize that one of the big cats is looking at you. [he turns and looks at the Perfectionist] It makes a little sound deep in its chest and rolls to its feet. You are out of control, in total free fall. You spot a whip and a chair in the centre of the cage. You move toward them as if you know what you're doing ... |
| [The Perfectionist gestures, lights up on the hanging piano. The Performer looks up, goes into a freeze.] | |
| PERFECTIONIST: | At the end of your ill-fated tour in 1959 you had to fly to Manhattan for a meeting with the people at Steinway about your recording schedule. Remember Jan Hubbert? |
| PERFORMER: | The chief technician at Steinway - |
| PERFECTIONIST: | A piano tuner elevated to a position only slightly below the master musicians whose instruments he serviced. You and Hubbert had had increasingly sharp disagreements, which you both repressed, about the regulation of pianos. |
| PERFORMER: | [remembering] I wanted things done to my instrument that Hubbert simply would not do - mechanical adjustments that he felt were out of bounds. |
| PERFECTIONIST: | Precisely. And we figured out a way to take advantage of it. |
| PERFORMER: | We did? |
| PERFECTIONIST: | Hubbert popped into your A&R man's office before he realized you were sitting there. [as Hubbert, Dutch accent] Hey, Glenn! |
| [The Performer is caught off guard by the Perfectionist's approach. The Perfectionist takes his hand and pumps it heartily.] | |
| PERFORMER: | Hubbert. We-we were just talking about you. You see I'm planning to record the Tempest and I-I have some new ideas about the kind of preparation I'd like to try - |
| HUBBERT: | [interrupting] 'New ideas', Mr Gould? |
| PERFORMER: | [momentarily flummoxed] Yes. |
| HUBBERT: | [big smile] Here's hoping it doesn't involve tightening the action. |
| PERFORMER: | Well, as a matter of fact it does. |
| HUBBERT: | I'm afraid I've exhausted the possibilities of that little experiment, Glenn. There's nothing out there but accidental rebounds and hiccups. |
| PERFORMER: | Oh? |
| HUBBERT: | I'd have thought after the public response to the Beethoven one-ten the desire for hair-trigger action would have lost some of its allure for you. |
| PERFORMER: | I'm afraid I don't understand - |
| HUBBERT: | [patting the Performer vigorously on the shoulders] Oh, you're a wily one, Mr Gould. [quoting review] '... the unnecessary clutter of unwanted sounds in the allegro passages must surely be the consequence of a poorly prepared piano ...' |
| [He gives the Performer a little shake by the neck.] | |
| You do what you do best. I'll do what I do best. We'll get along just fine. | |
| [The Perfectionist steps away, turns back to the Performer.] | |
| PERFECTIONIST: | Hubbert hurt you. |
| PERFORMER: | He hurt me. |
| PERFECTIONIST: | The affidavit filed on your behalf in federal court charged that: [reading the deposition] 'Hubbert engaged in unduly strong handshakes and other demonstrative physical acts, ignoring the widespread and well-known fact that Mr Gould was a man of extreme and unusual sensitivity to physical contact.' |
| [The Performer is now talking to a doctor, the Perfectionist, who manipulates his left shoulder. Bending it into one uncomfortable position after another.] | |
| PERFORMER: | Hold it like that? |
| PERFECTIONIST: | The initial injury was to the left side. When X-rayed - |
| PERFORMER: | My shoulder blade? |
| PERFECTIONIST: | ... the shoulder blade was shown to have been pushed down about half an inch. This caused a very troubling secondary reaction; the nerve which controls the fourth and fifth fingers of the left hand had been compressed and inflamed. |
| PERFORMER: | The doctor in Toronto gave me cortisone shots on alternating days ... . no, it was worse than ever. |
| PERFECTIONIST: | You became so obsessed with this pain in your shoulder that you went to see a very fancy neurologist at Johns Hopkins ... |
| PERFORMER: | A cast? Like this? Two months? Here? Alone? [smile] Yes. That sounds ideal. |
| PERFECTIONIST: | At the end of it all Jessie phoned the neurologist to see how you were doing. The doctor said: 'Not a thing wrong with him. Physically'. Nevertheless, as a result of this little divertimento you were able to take leave of the concert stage for six whole months. |
| [The Performer reacts with pleasure.] | |
| Not only that, you subsequently sued Steinway & Sons. | |
| PERFORMER: | I did? |
| PERFECTIONIST: | Steinway & Sons paid. |
| [He beams. The Performer hesitantly follows suit as he gets the picture. Lights fade. Another note from the ground bass.] |