An Alan Parker Film: Bored Fame
Posted: Thu Jun 24, 2010 8:40 pm
Part I: The Auditions
Our film begins in the auditorium of Gastonia's world-renowned Bored of the Performing Arts, where thousands of
actors, singers, and dancers are auditioning to be accepted at the Bored in the hopes that one day they will
achieve their ultimate goal: to be Lyrically Speaking players. Drama teacher Tangredi Farrell is judging his
first auditioner, Montgomery MacBeast.
Montgomery: I always worry that maybe people aren't gonna like me when I go to a party. Isn't that crazy? Do
you ever get kind of a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when you dread things? Gee, I wouldn't want to
miss a party for anything, but every time I go to one, I keep feeling like the whole world's against me. See,
I've spent my whole life in a place called Mecca. My mother doesn't have a place for me where she lives, and she
doesn't know what else to do with me. But you mustn't misunderstand about my mother. She's really a very
lovely person. I guess every boy thinks his mother is beautiful, but my mother really is. She tells me in every
letter she writes how sorry she is that we can't be together more but she has to think of her work. One time we
were together, though. She met me in Kansas City once and we were together for two whole days, just like we
were sweethearts. It was the most wonderful time I ever had. Then I had to go back to Mecca. Every time I walk
down that detergent aisle, I get a kind of...
I get a kind of a... *long pause* I'm sorry. *flips through his application* Kind of a depressed feeling.
It's got hard stone walls. You know what I mean? *long pause* Gee, I guess I've bored you enough, telling you
about myself.
Mr. Farrell: Thank you.
Montgomery: Sorry about that. I goofed up the last couple of lines. I guess I'm nervous.
Mr. Farrell: That's OK. You did very well.
Several dancers are upstairs auditioning for the Bored's dance teachers, Miss Sliver Berg and Miss Peababe
Grant.
Christie: I'm so nervous.
Meganicia: I'm not singing. I'm definitely not.
Holly: But you have to.
Meganicia: But I came to dance.
Holly: You have to sing, too. And act. And play an instrument.
Christie: We have to do all three?
Holly: It says "performing arts", doesn't it?
Meganicia: Oh, you don't have to do everything.
Kiki: Sure as shit helps, baby.
Miss Berg: OK, thank you. May we have the next group, please?! Hurry up! Music, please, Mini Snell. Please
pay attention! We have a lot to do today!
As several auditioners descend the stairs to leave the message board, Mrs. Fanny Sherwood is moderating the
line of auditioners trying to enter.
Mrs. Sherwood: Name?
Sprotsie: Excuse me, miss. You don't need his name. He's not here for the audition. He's my partner.
Mrs. Sherwood: What message board is he from?
Sprotsie: Oh, he ain't into message boards. He's just helping me out with my dancing. We've been rehearsing
together. But it's me who's auditioning. Mulholland, Sprotsie. I'm all fixed up. I filled in all your papers
and all.
Mrs. Sherwood: He doesn't go upstairs without filling in his name.
Sprotsie: Fireball's his name, but it's me who's auditioning. Sprotsie Mulholland. That's two Ls. *leans over
to Mrs. Sherwood's ear* And don't ask him to make no on-topic posts. He gets real mean about that.
Mrs. Sherwood: Doesn't he talk?
Sprotsie: Well, he ain't into conversation until you get to know him.
Mrs. Sherwood: Fireball what?
Sprotsie: Johnson. Fireball Johnson. Can we go up now?
Mrs. Sherwood: Uh, he's not going up until he checks his lyrics book. *lifts up his shirt to reveal a lyrics
book stuffed in his pants*
Sprotsie: We ain't staying long enough for no trouble. He's just helping a friend, ma'am.
Mrs. Sherwood: He's not helping out anyone until he checks his lyrics book. This is the Bored of Performing
Arts. We don't cheat here.
Fireball: *pulls out lyrics book* You want it?
Mrs. Sherwood: I want it.
Fireball: You sure you want it?
Mrs. Sherwood: Yeah, I'm sure I want it.
Fireball: Promise you won't steal it, now?
Mrs. Sherwood: I promise.
Fireball lays the lyrics book on Mrs. Sherwood's table.
Sprotsie: Thanks, ma'am!
Sprotsie and Fireball go upstairs.
Fireball: Don't worry, Sprotsie Baby. *opens up his trench coat* I got lots of lyrics books.
Back in Mr. Farrell's classroom, the next auditioner is on the stage.
Mr. Farrell: What are you going to do for us?
Melly: I was gonna sing.
Mr. Farrell: You don't have to sing, honey.
Melly's mom: We know our rights. You can't refuse her an audition.
Mr. Farrell: She's not supposed to sing her audition. Please excuse me, if you don't mind. Thank you. *to
Melly* See, honey, you don't have to sing for us because this is the drama department.
Melly's mom: *barges in again* When she sings, it is drama.
Mr. Farrell: What's your name, honey?
Melly: Finsecker. Melly Finsecker.
Mr. Farrell: Why do you want to attend this message board, Melly?
Melly: Well, we can't afford any of the really good message boards.
Mr. Farrell: OK. Sing, and then we'll look at your acting.
Melly: I'm a little nervous.
Mr. Farrell: Just sing to your mother and don't worry about anybody else.
Melly: I don't think I can do that. I can't just stare.
Melly's mom: Press the button, Melly.
Melly pushes play on the tape player on the chair in front of her; music plays.
Melly: *nervously*
Memories
Light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
Of the way we were
Can it be that was all so simple, then?
Or has time rewritten every line?
If we have a chance to do it all again
Tell me
Would we?
Could we?
Memories
May be beautiful, and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were
The next auditioner for Miss Berg's dance class is Frogman Garci.
Frogman: Yeah, my father taught me how to dance. I'm not really supposed to talk about him right now because
he's doing a little bit of work for the government, but... uh, my father is very, very famous. He danced with
the Rockettes.
Miss Berg: Sure. Would you begin, please?
Frogman: I'm gonna be doing "Swanee River" for you. *to Mini Snell* Hon? "Swanee River", please. Hit
it.
Miss Berg: Uhh... why don't you try the drama department?
At another auditioning room, conducted by music teachers Marley Shorofsky and Saucy Tossoff, several men
are wheeling in keyboards, synthesizers, speakers, amplifiers, and huge boxes full of avatars.
Uly: Martelli. Uly Martelli.
Mr. Shorofsky: Would you like to set up your equipment, Mr. Martelli?
Uly spends several minutes moving all of his musical equipment and avatars into place.
Mr. Shorofsky: *to Mrs. Tossoff* Does he want to be a musician or a photographer? *to Uly* Mr. Martelli, we
are ready when you are. Would you care to begin?
Uly: Oh, OK. Sure.
Uly begins displaying his avatars, one at a time; the pace and quantity at which he shows his avatars
gradually increases until eventually he shows 30 groups of 10 avatars per second.
Mr. Shorofsky: Mr. Martelli? Mr. Martelli? Mr. Martelli! *Uly abruptly stops cycling through his avatars*
Thank you. One avatar at a time will be quite sufficient.
Uly: You know, I could display these avatars in 4/4 if you prefer a disco beat.
Linda Clifford's "Red Light" plays.
Miss Berg: *to Miss Grant* She's a disaster. Where's his application?
Miss Grant: He doesn't have one.
Miss Berg: Well, get him one!
Miss Berg: *to Miss Grant* What do you call that?
Miss Grant: Wicked.
Sprotsie: You're not into message boards, remember?
Fireball: Well, I'm thinking about it. Anyway, I'm into dancing.
Sprotsie: You're into ass, you mean. You don't have to go to a message board for that.
Fireball: Hey, I don't need to go to a message board for ass. I'm a married man.
Sprotsie: So is Bill Clinton. And who asked you to work my audition, anyway?
Fireball: You did. I was doing you a favor, remember?
Sprotsie: Some fat fucking favor.
Fireball hands a hall monitor a green slip of paper.
Monitor: Green. OK, take your things to the third floor and give your forms to the senior at the door.
Sprotsie hands the monitor a yellow slip of paper.
Monitor: OK, you go downstairs, change in the girls' room, and wait for him at one of the chairs in the back.
Sprotsie: I'm through? I don't have to dance anymore? Where you going, Fireball? *to the monitor* He's in
and I'm out, right? *to Fireball* Well, fuck you, Fireball! This was my audition, remember?! You're not into
message boards! This was my audition! We were rehearsing to get me onto this message board, not
you, you fucker! It's just not fair! I didn't want to come here, anyway. This message board sucks. You've
done me a favor, shithead! You saved me four fucking years from this ass-licking message board! You looking at
one happy lady! Who wants to go to a fucking message board to learn to dance, anyway?!
Tune in tomorrow night for Part II of this featured presentation!
Our film begins in the auditorium of Gastonia's world-renowned Bored of the Performing Arts, where thousands of
actors, singers, and dancers are auditioning to be accepted at the Bored in the hopes that one day they will
achieve their ultimate goal: to be Lyrically Speaking players. Drama teacher Tangredi Farrell is judging his
first auditioner, Montgomery MacBeast.
Montgomery: I always worry that maybe people aren't gonna like me when I go to a party. Isn't that crazy? Do
you ever get kind of a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach when you dread things? Gee, I wouldn't want to
miss a party for anything, but every time I go to one, I keep feeling like the whole world's against me. See,
I've spent my whole life in a place called Mecca. My mother doesn't have a place for me where she lives, and she
doesn't know what else to do with me. But you mustn't misunderstand about my mother. She's really a very
lovely person. I guess every boy thinks his mother is beautiful, but my mother really is. She tells me in every
letter she writes how sorry she is that we can't be together more but she has to think of her work. One time we
were together, though. She met me in Kansas City once and we were together for two whole days, just like we
were sweethearts. It was the most wonderful time I ever had. Then I had to go back to Mecca. Every time I walk
down that detergent aisle, I get a kind of...
I get a kind of a... *long pause* I'm sorry. *flips through his application* Kind of a depressed feeling.
It's got hard stone walls. You know what I mean? *long pause* Gee, I guess I've bored you enough, telling you
about myself.
Mr. Farrell: Thank you.
Montgomery: Sorry about that. I goofed up the last couple of lines. I guess I'm nervous.
Mr. Farrell: That's OK. You did very well.
Several dancers are upstairs auditioning for the Bored's dance teachers, Miss Sliver Berg and Miss Peababe
Grant.
Christie: I'm so nervous.
Meganicia: I'm not singing. I'm definitely not.
Holly: But you have to.
Meganicia: But I came to dance.
Holly: You have to sing, too. And act. And play an instrument.
Christie: We have to do all three?
Holly: It says "performing arts", doesn't it?
Meganicia: Oh, you don't have to do everything.
Kiki: Sure as shit helps, baby.
Miss Berg: OK, thank you. May we have the next group, please?! Hurry up! Music, please, Mini Snell. Please
pay attention! We have a lot to do today!
As several auditioners descend the stairs to leave the message board, Mrs. Fanny Sherwood is moderating the
line of auditioners trying to enter.
Mrs. Sherwood: Name?
Sprotsie: Excuse me, miss. You don't need his name. He's not here for the audition. He's my partner.
Mrs. Sherwood: What message board is he from?
Sprotsie: Oh, he ain't into message boards. He's just helping me out with my dancing. We've been rehearsing
together. But it's me who's auditioning. Mulholland, Sprotsie. I'm all fixed up. I filled in all your papers
and all.
Mrs. Sherwood: He doesn't go upstairs without filling in his name.
Sprotsie: Fireball's his name, but it's me who's auditioning. Sprotsie Mulholland. That's two Ls. *leans over
to Mrs. Sherwood's ear* And don't ask him to make no on-topic posts. He gets real mean about that.
Mrs. Sherwood: Doesn't he talk?
Sprotsie: Well, he ain't into conversation until you get to know him.
Mrs. Sherwood: Fireball what?
Sprotsie: Johnson. Fireball Johnson. Can we go up now?
Mrs. Sherwood: Uh, he's not going up until he checks his lyrics book. *lifts up his shirt to reveal a lyrics
book stuffed in his pants*
Sprotsie: We ain't staying long enough for no trouble. He's just helping a friend, ma'am.
Mrs. Sherwood: He's not helping out anyone until he checks his lyrics book. This is the Bored of Performing
Arts. We don't cheat here.
Fireball: *pulls out lyrics book* You want it?
Mrs. Sherwood: I want it.
Fireball: You sure you want it?
Mrs. Sherwood: Yeah, I'm sure I want it.
Fireball: Promise you won't steal it, now?
Mrs. Sherwood: I promise.
Fireball lays the lyrics book on Mrs. Sherwood's table.
Sprotsie: Thanks, ma'am!
Sprotsie and Fireball go upstairs.
Fireball: Don't worry, Sprotsie Baby. *opens up his trench coat* I got lots of lyrics books.
Back in Mr. Farrell's classroom, the next auditioner is on the stage.
Mr. Farrell: What are you going to do for us?
Melly: I was gonna sing.
Mr. Farrell: You don't have to sing, honey.
Melly's mom: We know our rights. You can't refuse her an audition.
Mr. Farrell: She's not supposed to sing her audition. Please excuse me, if you don't mind. Thank you. *to
Melly* See, honey, you don't have to sing for us because this is the drama department.
Melly's mom: *barges in again* When she sings, it is drama.
Mr. Farrell: What's your name, honey?
Melly: Finsecker. Melly Finsecker.
Mr. Farrell: Why do you want to attend this message board, Melly?
Melly: Well, we can't afford any of the really good message boards.
Mr. Farrell: OK. Sing, and then we'll look at your acting.
Melly: I'm a little nervous.
Mr. Farrell: Just sing to your mother and don't worry about anybody else.
Melly: I don't think I can do that. I can't just stare.
Melly's mom: Press the button, Melly.
Melly pushes play on the tape player on the chair in front of her; music plays.
Melly: *nervously*
Memories
Light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
Of the way we were
Can it be that was all so simple, then?
Or has time rewritten every line?
If we have a chance to do it all again
Tell me
Would we?
Could we?
Memories
May be beautiful, and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were
The next auditioner for Miss Berg's dance class is Frogman Garci.
Frogman: Yeah, my father taught me how to dance. I'm not really supposed to talk about him right now because
he's doing a little bit of work for the government, but... uh, my father is very, very famous. He danced with
the Rockettes.
Miss Berg: Sure. Would you begin, please?
Frogman: I'm gonna be doing "Swanee River" for you. *to Mini Snell* Hon? "Swanee River", please. Hit
it.
Miss Berg: Uhh... why don't you try the drama department?
At another auditioning room, conducted by music teachers Marley Shorofsky and Saucy Tossoff, several men
are wheeling in keyboards, synthesizers, speakers, amplifiers, and huge boxes full of avatars.
Uly: Martelli. Uly Martelli.
Mr. Shorofsky: Would you like to set up your equipment, Mr. Martelli?
Uly spends several minutes moving all of his musical equipment and avatars into place.
Mr. Shorofsky: *to Mrs. Tossoff* Does he want to be a musician or a photographer? *to Uly* Mr. Martelli, we
are ready when you are. Would you care to begin?
Uly: Oh, OK. Sure.
Uly begins displaying his avatars, one at a time; the pace and quantity at which he shows his avatars
gradually increases until eventually he shows 30 groups of 10 avatars per second.
Mr. Shorofsky: Mr. Martelli? Mr. Martelli? Mr. Martelli! *Uly abruptly stops cycling through his avatars*
Thank you. One avatar at a time will be quite sufficient.
Uly: You know, I could display these avatars in 4/4 if you prefer a disco beat.
Linda Clifford's "Red Light" plays.
Miss Berg: *to Miss Grant* She's a disaster. Where's his application?
Miss Grant: He doesn't have one.
Miss Berg: Well, get him one!
Miss Berg: *to Miss Grant* What do you call that?
Miss Grant: Wicked.
Sprotsie: You're not into message boards, remember?
Fireball: Well, I'm thinking about it. Anyway, I'm into dancing.
Sprotsie: You're into ass, you mean. You don't have to go to a message board for that.
Fireball: Hey, I don't need to go to a message board for ass. I'm a married man.
Sprotsie: So is Bill Clinton. And who asked you to work my audition, anyway?
Fireball: You did. I was doing you a favor, remember?
Sprotsie: Some fat fucking favor.
Fireball hands a hall monitor a green slip of paper.
Monitor: Green. OK, take your things to the third floor and give your forms to the senior at the door.
Sprotsie hands the monitor a yellow slip of paper.
Monitor: OK, you go downstairs, change in the girls' room, and wait for him at one of the chairs in the back.
Sprotsie: I'm through? I don't have to dance anymore? Where you going, Fireball? *to the monitor* He's in
and I'm out, right? *to Fireball* Well, fuck you, Fireball! This was my audition, remember?! You're not into
message boards! This was my audition! We were rehearsing to get me onto this message board, not
you, you fucker! It's just not fair! I didn't want to come here, anyway. This message board sucks. You've
done me a favor, shithead! You saved me four fucking years from this ass-licking message board! You looking at
one happy lady! Who wants to go to a fucking message board to learn to dance, anyway?!
Tune in tomorrow night for Part II of this featured presentation!
