Y.M.I.
by
Will Todd
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Copyright 2011 Will Todd
Smashwords Edition
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INTRODUCTION
Choir, listen to the pitch:
A diverse chorus of teenagers unite
during a whirlwind musical tour of Europe.
“Y.M.I.” stands for “Young Musicians International”, based on an actual organization I traveled with during my own teenage years. The idea was to “promote fellowship through the international language of music”.
At least, in theory.
In practice, fellowship within the group was hard enough to maintain, while concerts were often the last thing on the mind of young men and women far away from home for the first time in their lives.
Until, miraculously, it all came together at tour’s end.
It’s not “High School Musical” nor "Glee", but it will be recognizable to anyone who ever sang in a high school choir.
Or survived adolescence.
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FADE IN:
CLOSE ON - A CIRCULAR LOGO
the "Y" for "Young" broken to form an "M" and "i".
It undulates, part of a patch sewn to the uniform pocket of a Y.M.I.er, eighteen years young, but younger still in the cradle of sleep.
WIDENING REVEALS more uniforms, most frayed with age - black, European-cut blazers with white turtleneck shirts that encase their dormant teenage charges like cocoons. Perhaps fifty in all. Half boys, half girls. Some read, some converse in low tones, but most try to find comfort in the twenty-one inches between armrests on an
INT. AIRPLANE - NIGHT
where the cabin lights are dimmed. The first few hours of excitement have worn off and the group has settled in, allowing the DULL, MUFFLED ROAR of the engines to wrap them in a comfortable blanket of security.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Y.M.I. Good question. Why am I here? Why am I writing this down? Why am I up in the air with fifty other Y.M.I.ers?
It's a BOY'S VOICE navigating the final days of adolescence, and its OWNER slowly comes into view beneath a small pool of overhead light that illuminates his notebook:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Actually, this diary was one of the few good suggestions made during Intensives. A lot of people say they're going to try and keep one while we're gone. We'll see.
MARK COOPER ("COOP")
continues writing. Average size, average looks - average penmanship. Perhaps an early wrinkle or two on his brow.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
But, anyways, you have to start somewhere. So like the song - which still needs work, of course - says...
(singing)
"Let's start at the ve-ry be-gin-ning..."
(pauses to think)
Y.M.I. stands for Young Musicians International...
PRE-LAP
MUSIC: Randall Thompson's ethereal "Ye Shall Have A Song" for SATB chorus SWELLING INTO A
DISSOLVE TO:
MAIN TITLES MONTAGE
presenting a brief history of Y.M.I. that starts with
AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH OF A CHOIR
faded to sepia. Sepia eyes and sepia smiles top the familiar uniforms of a small group of teens on risers, flanked by a man with baton, and a beaming young couple. "Y.M.I., 1965."
More photographs follow, as the group increases in number over the years. The faces on the risers never age past high school, but the adults on either side - the baton and the couple - reflect the steady passage of time.
Other mementos appear: Trophies and medals from international competitions; knickknacks from foreign lands; record albums from tours made around the world. It's soon apparent that these are all part of a carefully arranged
DISPLAY CASE
which finds the group at its zenith in a photo of both a choir and a band - over a hundred students - next to a plaque that reads: "Your forthcoming tour this summer will do much to help create and solidify world friendships through your international language of music. Please accept my best wishes for a pleasant journey. Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1969."
But the next few portraits paint a different story. It begins when the couple is suddenly reduced to a now graying old woman. At first stooped, she soon straightens with an iron determination. Another photo shows the man with the baton looking her way, but he remains permanently affixed to the opposite side of the risers. The band has disappeared, and even the choir begins to diminish. No more trophies interrupt the flow of photographs.
And finally, near the end of the case, the empty shelves support only dust and a few desiccated insects.
But covering the last pane of glass is a modest flyer, announcing auditions for the next Y.M.I. tour.
And as "Ye Shall Have A Song" BUILDS TO ITS PROMISING CLIMAX of "And Gladness Of Heart!"
WIDEN TO:
INT. HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY - DAY
where a sunglassed student of the new millennium studies the flyer. He takes in the length of the display case and finally releases A SARDONIC PUFF OF AIR - dismissing decades of Y.M.I. without wasting a single syllable.
He crosses OUT OF FRAME, leaving Coop next to the display case, seated against a wall in his street clothes. His leg vibrates like a jackhammer.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Up until six months ago, I didn't really know much about Y.M.I. - just that if you were a senior in high school, you could try out an' maybe get a pretty cheap trip to Europe over the summer.
Coop looks around the hallway. A handful of other students mill about. Behind a table, two adults in Y.M.I. uniforms supervise a sign-up sheet.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
The audition was no big deal, really.
Coop's leg continues to vibrate. Another youth takes the chair next to it.
YOUTH
Hey.
COOP
Hey.
The new arrival is JOE HEADLEY ("HEAD"): Rangy, amiable, and as comfortable in his own skin as any eighteen-year-old can be: MacGyver, The Early Years.
His presence has momentarily stilled Coop's jackhammer, but it soon picks up where it left off. Head studies it out of the corner of his eye, then sees what he can do:
HEAD
(re: school)
You go here?
COOP
(leg stops)
Here? No. Farmington. You?
HEAD
Dow.
COOP
Pretty far.
HEAD
Yeah, but it'll be worth it. Rehearsal's only gonna be once a week. I'm Joe Headley.
COOP
Mark. Cooper.
A door opens along the hallway and a uniformed adult calls for the next student:
ADULT
Ian Pierce?
Having just exchanged names, Coop and Head now spontaneously turn to each other and practically mouth the word "Ian?". It provides the start of a bonding moment that only truly comes to fruition when they see
IAN PIERCE:
This is why girls buy "Seventeen" magazine. Though in their hearts, they know he must have a girlfriend somewhere named "Lana".
All eyes follow his stroll into the audition room, the door closing behind him.
Then, with a new familiarity born of the moment, Head turns to Coop with a conspiratorial smile:
HEAD
Okay. Here's the way I look at it. He's too good-looking. There's no way he can sing, too, `cuz... somebody like us would've had to kill him a long time ago, right?
Their LAUGHTER seals the bond.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
That's been one of the better things about Y.M.I....
INSERT - AIRPLANE
where Coop continues writing in his little pool of light:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
...you can make friends pretty quick.
From the next seat, Head sticks his drowsy face into the pool of light and then buries it in Coop's notebook. He shakes his head in disgust.
HEAD
Jeeeez, Coop, you got a lot to learn about goofin' off.
He returns to his own twenty-one inches, rapidly achieving another impossible position for sleep.
COOP
(still writing)
Bite me.
HEAD
Better.
Obviously, their friendship has come a long way.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Maybe it's because everybody starts out alone again, on pretty much equal footing. Or for me an' Head, maybe we had something else in common...
RESUME - HALLWAY
where the something else Coop and Head have in common right now is slack-jawed astonishment. Still seated against the wall, they both stare straight ahead while listening to IAN'S AUDITION SOLO. In Latin.
HEAD
(mock dismissal)
Ehhh - if they can't handle the English version...
COOP
Really...
They LAUGH briefly, but it doesn't help. The SOLO ends as impressively as it began. Head gives in and rubs his eyes:
HEAD
Man, pity the guy who has to go--
The door opens:
ADULT
Mark Cooper?
HEAD
(180's)
Although, actually... this could be an advantage.
Coop rises, passing the departing Ian.
IAN
Hey, good luck, man. No sweat.
He approaches Head, who returns his smile until he passes.
And as Head's own leg turns into a jackhammer
CUT TO:
INT. AUDITION ROOM
as the adult in uniform, ROGER, leads Coop to a chair.
Roger, like the other adult drones who assist in Y.M.I.'s day-to-day administration, is the product of nepotism - and not the persistent rumor of in-breeding that arises annually:
ROGER
Welcome. Have a seat right over here. My name's Roger, and this is the Executive Director of Y.M.I., Mrs. Morton Whipple.
He presents both his meal ticket and the matriarch of Y.M.I. - BERNICE WHIPPLE, a snow-capped, compact woman of ancient vintage: Bette Davis, The Later Years.
MRS. WHIPPLE
Good of you to come, Mr. Cooper.
Coop sits before their table. Taped to the wall behind him are a couple of Y.M.I. posters that frame his chair in what will become known as THE AUDITION SHOT. He begins to settle in just as:
MRS. WHIPPLE (O.S.)
(trademark blunt)
Do you prefer your hair uncombed?
COOP
Uhhh...
And with the interview off to a stumble
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. HIGH SCHOOL AUDITORIUM - (ANOTHER) DAY
CLOSE ON - MRS. WHIPPLE
delivering a favorite discourse:
MRS. WHIPPLE
Y.M.I. was founded by the late Morton Whipple - music lover, philanthropist...
(nods lovingly)
...vinyl pioneer.
As she continues up on stage, the newest Y.M.I. - those who made the cut - listen below. Though their high school letter jackets may differ, these kids have more in common than just vocal ability and a familiarity with Clearisil.
Most are on their way to college, and few will ever be asked to turn for a right profile. But within this middle class bandwidth lies a full spectrum of personalities - some, at the moment, beginning to glaze over:
MRS. WHIPPLE (O.S.)
He envisioned not just a choir, but a group of young emissaries that would annually tour the globe with a charter to foster goodwill and understanding through the international language of music. To this end, he established a trust...
This finally stirs some APPLAUSE, and even a few CHEERS.
MRS. WHIPPLE
...yes, a trust, so that each student need only bear a small portion of the financial burden. Today, through careful management of tour expenditures, The Whipple Trust continues to serve.
Roger, seated on stage, squirms just a hair, putting the health of The Whipple Trust, and hence tour expenditures, somewhat in question.
MRS. WHIPPLE
Morton Whipple was a simple man...
And as she begins to wax spousal, Coop and Head settle back in their seats with a we'd-better-get-comfortable
COOP AND HEAD
Mmgghhh.
VOICE
I'd lay odds she hasn't had any since ol' Morty kicked.
Slowly, they turn...
The voice has come from behind, and belongs to one of those sparsely forested TEEN upper lips with a gaggle of limbs beneath - and a pair of photochromic eyeglasses that don't quite return to clear anymore indoors.
INSERT - THE AUDITION SHOT
and the same teen during his interview:
ROGER (O.S.)
So tell us about your extracurricular activities.
TEEN
You mean besides girls.
He LAUGHS. Alone. Then CLEARS HIS THROAT:
TEEN
(somber)
Well, I spend a lot of time reading the Bible...
RESUME - AUDITORIUM
as Coop and Head continue to stare.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Foster Fitzsimmons. Here's about the only thing anybody needs to know about Fitz...
INSERT - CHOIR ROOM
during a rehearsal, as Fitz absently doodles in his music. Curious, Coop leans over to see that Fitz has sketched a woman's torso over a music staff, turning two "D" half notes into "Double D's".
RESUME - AUDITORIUM
where Coop and Head still stare back at the tall, adolescent graduate of The Joe Pesci School of Public Speaking:
FITZ
(unfazed)
Really. I bet she hasn't. I mean, can you imagine not doing it for two solid decades?
HEAD
No, but in a few years, I'll bet you'll be able to.
Fitz secures a permanent place in the pack by taking this in, considering it, and then acknowledging Head's score with a pantomime of "one point for you".
Meanwhile, on stage, Mrs. Whipple has moved on to the other man in her life, less revered, but at least breathing:
MRS. WHIPPLE
...and I'm happy to report that our esteemed Musical Director is now back on his feet and ready to begin rehearsals next week.
(building)
I'm speaking, of course, of the only man ever to hold a baton before Y.M.I.--
CUT TO:
INT. CHOIR ROOM - (ANOTHER) DAY
where Mrs. Whipple once again faces the assembled group:
MRS. WHIPPLE
--Dr. Wilton Snapp!
She motions toward the door and initiates some polite APPLAUSE, precipitating the entrance of a man with morticians on retainer.
DR. WILTON SNAPP, his right arm in a cast, slowly shuffles a stooped beeline toward the podium - the APPLAUSE stagnating - and by some miracle unmatched since Everest, manages to ascend.
He receives a baton from Mrs. Whipple with the fingertips not immobilized by his cast, and the APPLAUSE dies. But before turning to acknowledge the group, Dr. Snapp has something else to do - namely, watch Bernice's behind as she returns to her seat.
The morticians will have to wait for a while after all.
Finally, he swivels toward the choir, where a thousand silent glances have already been exchanged.
DR. SNAPP
(using hands)
Settle down, settle down...
Had they not already been settled, his muted gestures and envy-of-all-hypnotists voice would probably have done the trick.
DR. SNAPP
It's good to be back at the helm of Y.M.I....
(ironic emphasis)
...again. I assume you've been seated in your proper sections - tenors?
Down front and to his left, the tenors, which include Coop and Head, raise their hands.
DR. SNAPP
Good. Basses?
Hands go up in the front right quarter, where Fitz sits.
DR. SNAPP
Excellent. Sopranos?
(behind basses)
Very nice. Altos?
(behind tenors)
Good. And tenors?
The tenors hesitate, but when he looks their way, they have no choice but to sheepishly raise their hands a second time.
DR. SNAPP
(firm but kind)
You're a little slow there, tenors. Pay attention. If there's anything a Y.M.I. choir is known for...
The Shutdown. An occasional, overly long pause. Perhaps to allow time for his neurons to reattach.
DR. SNAPP
...it's attentiveness.
The entire group studies their venerated leader.
And as the baton squirts from his fingertips, giving everyone a slight jerk
CUT TO:
INT. MCDONALD'S - LATE AFTERNOON
the local hangout after rehearsal, where practically all of Y.M.I. sups before scattering back to weekday life.
Amidst the BUZZ, one booth finds Fitz holding a limp french fry before Coop and Head:
FITZ
I believe this encompasses the whole of Dr. Snapp's problems.
He wriggles the bent fry.
HEAD
Hey, as long as he can get it and us to Europe this summer, I could care.
COOP
We don't sound all that great.
FITZ
Tenors? Tenors?
HEAD
(re: entire room)
Look, everybody's here for the same thing.
FITZ
(straightens)
"Fostering goodwill through the international language of music."
HEAD
Right. Oh, an' the trip.
FITZ
Oh, yeah, right, the trip, uh-huh.
HEAD
The last summer before college, the price very right... So even if our esteemed Musical Director does happen to be a few strings short of an orchestra...
Fitz thrusts a Napoleonic hand into his shirt:
FITZ
Viva la Snapp!
HEAD
(hand in shirt)
Viva la Y.M.I.!
They wait for Coop, who makes a decision:
COOP
It'll still look good on an application, I guess...
Shrugging, he joins them in Napoleonic solidarity.
HEAD AND FITZ
Aw right, aw right.
But a THUNK! and a SMALL COMMOTION break the "all for one and one for mediocrity" moment, drawing their attention to
THE LINE AREA
where a hanging ceiling advertisement has broken a string and almost pit-and-the-pendulumed a YOUNG CUSTOMER who, with the torso of the Pillsbury Doughboy and the track record of Wile E. Coyote, approximates the adolescent years of George Castanza ("Seinfeld").
Rubbing his head while a "Happy Meal" placard swings behind him, he receives a concerned
IAN
Hey, man, are you okay?
YOUNG CUSTOMER
Oh, yeah, fine, no problem. Just grazed me. Missed the food completely.
Clearly, he's uncomfortable with all this attention, and just wants to get out of the crowd.
IAN
You sure?
YOUNG CUSTOMER
Yeah, yeah, no problem. I mean, it was my fault, really. I was just... standing here.
He escapes to the condiment table, but immediately encounters an uncooperative napkin dispenser which, after a struggle, yields only a corner of torn paper.
Finally, with almost Zen resignation, he moves on to the seating area. It is full. All tables taken. He glances toward the parking lot.
HEAD (O.S.)
Hey, you lookin' for a seat...?
YOUNG CUSTOMER
(tickled)
Oh, uh... well, uh... thanks. Don't mind if I do.
The empty seat is next to Fitz, who still has a wary eye on the new arrival. The Young Customer doesn't help matters by oddly running a hand over the seat before moving into the booth. And while he lowers himself
INSERT - THE AUDITION SHOT
as the Young Customer sits INTO FRAME:
ROGER (O.S.)
Have a seat.
YOUNG CUSTOMER
Thank you.
He lets out an involuntary YELP, but stifles it with a smile.
ROGER (O.S.)
Is something wrong?
YOUNG CUSTOMER
No, no problem.
(still smiling)
Just a splinter.
RESUME - MCDONALD'S
as the Young Customer settles gently into his seat.
HEAD
Well, let's see, I'm Joe Headley - Head - and this is Mark Cooper...
COOP
Coop.
HEAD
...and Foster Fitzsimmons.
FITZ
Fitz.
YOUNG CUSTOMER
Oh, uh... Howard Piolovich.
FITZ
(not loving it)
"Pio"?
INSERT - AIRPLANE
where Fitz and Pio play a little gin rummy, Pio pulling back a card as Fitz reaches for it:
FITZ
Hey, you put it down.
PIO
I never took my finger off of it.
FITZ
It was down.
PIO
My finger was never off of it.
FITZ
That's not a rule!
PIO
Never - took - my finger off-of-it.
The argument continues within sight of Coop, who continues to write in his notebook:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
From then on, it was pretty much official: We were a click. Not that there aren't a lot of other clicks in Y.M.I.--
FITZ
(finally gives up)
My God, you're such a Pio!
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
--but ours is... ours.
RESUME - MCDONALD'S - SOME WEEKS LATER
where the boys have just settled in at a table with their trays. Pio dabs at a ketchup stain on Fitz's shirt:
FITZ
You should carry little orange cones around with you, you know that, Pio?
But his irritation evaporates as a Y.M.I. girl with a fully occupied sweater passes their table. Their eyes track like radar dishes until she sits, whereupon Fitz bows his head:
FITZ
Gentlemen. Let us pray...
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Which brings up another thing, I guess. Being a choir, Y.M.I. is almost 50% made up of...
CUT TO:
INT. CHOIR ROOM - (ANOTHER) DAY
PANNING the alto and soprano sections while they REHEARSE:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
...girls.
(over "mature" one)
Or I guess I should say women.
(over "young" one)
Or girls is okay, I guess. I don't know. Anyway...
MATCH DISSOLVE TO:
INT. AUDITORIUM
where the PAN CONTINUES as the girls listen to a suitcase packing demonstration:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
...we have them.
It ends with CINDY ARCHER, a glimpse into the future should Genetech ever merge with Revlon. She raises her hand.
ROGER (O.S.)
Question?
CINDY
How many pieces of luggage are we allowed?
On stage, Roger stands next to an open suitcase:
ROGER
Just one. And a carryon.
Cindy enjoys this with some friends.
CINDY
No, really.
INSERT - THE AUDITION SHOT
where Cindy relaxes in the interview chair.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Some are typical sopranos...
CINDY
Well, I think of it more as "life preparation", really. Of course, it's highly competitive, but after doing it for, gosh, almost seven years now, you really get a better understanding of why that mother hired somebody to kill her daughter's cheerleading rival, you know?
INSERT - HALLWAY - (ANOTHER) DAY
where Coop walks along with Head.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
And some are pure alto.
They share a good LAUGH, and Head consequently bumps into a GIRL leaving the choir room, grabbing hold.
HEAD
Whoops. Sorry.
(doesn't let go)
But not completely...
The high spirits of the laugh have emboldened him to a moment of genuine charm.
GIRL
Can you say, "mace"?
She isn't charmed. Head lets go. She moves away. Head gives Coop a "yikes" look and steps over to a drinking fountain.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
In fact, sometimes I wonder how Y.M.I. picks its "goodwill ambassadors"...
And as Head "washes" the girl from his hands
INSERT - THE AUDITION SHOT
where the same girl, JODIE BURR, takes the interview chair.
Though not unattractive, her tight, thin lips and trespasser-beware eyes keep everything at a distance - sort of like if Jodie Foster had been raised by wolves.
JODIE
Mind if I smoke?
MRS. WHIPPLE (O.S.)
My late husband died of lung cancer.
JODIE
(lights up)
Mm. Good thing I was being rhetorical.
INSERT - CORRIDOR - (ANOTHER) DAY
where Coop approaches the hallway that leads to the choir room. He sees the same well-endowed girl that drew rapt attention at McDonald's. His eyes track her again, but he stops suddenly with a LOUD GRUNT...
...as he looks down and sees the drinking fountain he's just rammed.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Then, of course, there's Debbie Hobble...
And as Coop looks up at the sound of a LOCKER BANG, and another Y.M.I. male rounds the corner rubbing his head
INSERT - THE AUDITION SHOT
and DEBBIE HOBBLE seen full face for the first time: A face in concert with body in belying her youth; a face whose sharp features chisel the memories of men.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
She hired on as a second alto...
ROGER (O.S.)
(eager)
Can I get you anything? A beverage? Anything?
MRS. WHIPPLE (O.S.)
Roger?
INSERT - HALLWAY
as Coop rounds the corner from his encounter with the fountain in time to see Debbie nearing the choir room.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
...but I don't think you could call her just a girl.
Debbie tears open the SNAPS on her jacket just before entering the room. A moment goes by. Then...
...Fitz staggers out, collapsing against a locker, his eyes raised in beatific enlightenment. Head rushes up with mock concern:
HEAD
Moses, your hair - it's turned white!
RESUME - CHOIR ROOM
where the current diary digression on girls began, only this time, the whole group REHEARSES - boys in front, girls in back.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
For the most part, though, guys and girls haven't done a whole lot of inter... stuff. Or, at least, I haven't...
INT. AIRPLANE
ON IAN, in the middle of an island of girls, as Coop glances up from his notebook with more resignation than jealousy. He continues writing:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
...probably because we did most of our rehearsing in Sections. But they mixed us on risers during Intensives, which is better for performing, which is what we'll be doing on tour, of course.
(thinks, then)
It's just that when you're first learning, there's more security in Sections...
CUT TO:
INT. CHOIR ROOM - DAY
with Coop right in the middle of the tenor section as the entire group REHEARSES. They enter a VAMP, and Dr. Snapp gives a miniscule cutoff with his broken baton arm. It takes a second or two for everyone to trail off.
DR. SNAPP
Good. Now let's add the solo.
(re: a list)
Misterrr... Cooper, please.
He immediately lifts his baton, but Coop finds his voice in time to stay a downbeat:
COOP
(stricken)
Uh, Dr. Snapp, I'd... rather not. I, um...
DR. SNAPP
I'm going to be hearing several of you based on your audition tapes. Just give it a try.
COOP
But--
DR. SNAPP
Good. And...
He gives the downbeat and the lead-in CHORUS begins. Coop swallows repeatedly, praying that the world will choose this moment to abandon peace and experience nuclear holocaust.
But no such luck. And as the choir finally enters the VAMP, and Snapp throws him a big cue...
...nothing. Coop doesn't even open his mouth. He's not going to sing.
DR. SNAPP
(cuts off group)
That's your entrance, Mr. Cooper.
COOP
(clears throat)
I'd, um... rather... Somebody else...
It's a moment that reveals more about Coop than reams of diary writing, because the sheer pressure to at least try in this situation is absolutely enormous. Everyone waiting...
But Coop is sticking to his (timorous) guns. He is not going to sing alone.
Dr. Snapp finally gets it.
DR. SNAPP
I see. Well, then. Let's have...
(re: next on list)
Mr. Iannn...
INT. MCDONALD'S
where Coop, Head, Fitz, and Pio eat dinner:
FITZ
(disgusted)
Pierce. Aggh. He already gets the big one in "West Side", and now this one, too. What, is he gonna get every solo?
HEAD
I didn't see you raising your hand to try out.
FITZ
I'm not a tenor.
(directed)
But Coop is.
COOP
Hey, I didn't want it. I prefer blending with the group. I like blending.
FITZ
Why don't we just change our name? Instead of Y.M.I., we can be "Pretty Boy and The Rest of Us".
Coop realizes that Fitz is particularly hard on Ian because Ian represents everything that Fitz is not. Still, Coop feels the need to put in a word or two on Ian's behalf:
COOP
You know, he's really not that bad of a guy, if you talked to him.
FITZ
(mealy-mouthed)
"EEan PEErce". Jeez, it sounds like something a dolphin would name its kid.
COOP
(sighs and rises)
I'm gonna go get some dessert.
And as he leaves the table
THE LINE AREA - A MINUTE LATER
finds him opening a box of McDonaldland cookies, ready to return to his seat. But he spots something in another direction and decides to pay a visit to
IAN'S TABLE
where Ian has just sat down to eat with a couple of Y.M.I. buddies, all cut from the same cloth - and in direct contrast to the group Coop has just left.
COOP
Hey, Ian.
IAN
(surprised)
Oh, hey - how's it goin'?
COOP
Hey, I just wanted to say congratulations. The solo sounds great.
IAN
Hey, thanks, man. I'm sure you could've had it if you wanted it.
COOP
(laughs it off)
Nah, I'm not a soloist.
IAN
Yeah, well, some people are, an' some people aren't.
Somehow, it sounded better when Coop said it.
COOP
Yeah...
Ian, misinterpreting Coop's pause, looks at the empty seat in the booth.
IAN
Well, I'd ask you to join us, but, uh... we're expecting one more.
COOP
(his cue)
Oh, no-no, I just came by to say congrats. I'll see ya next week.
IAN
Sure thing.
Coop moves away, returning to
HIS OWN BOOTH
where Fitz gladly scarfs a couple of cookies from Coop's proffered box:
FITZ
What took ya so long?
Coop looks back across the room to Ian's table, where the boys have removed their coats - and Ian is stacking them on the empty seat.
COOP
Call of nature...
And as he places a cookie in his mouth
CUT TO:
INT. AUDITORIUM - DAY
ON IAN, performing a SOLO with his usual vocal dexterity.
He stands in front of the choir, arranged in mixed formation on risers. They take over the MELODY and build to the song's climax, though foundering somewhat. Snapp gives a final cutoff. But not everyone has reached the end. Some leave off in mid-word. In fact, there seems to be a final note missing, one of those things that drives people with perfect pitch crazy. And on top of all that...
...The Shutdown. Snapp's arms still frozen in cutoff. It's a long one.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Even in Intensives, working eight hours a day, every day for the last week before tour, we still didn't sound all that much--
DR. SNAPP
(awakens)
Better.
(without looking)
I see some of you still holding music. A Y.M.I. choir does not use music while performing. Remember, all music must be memorized before we take off. No exceptions.
INSERT - AIRPLANE
ON A PIECE OF SHEET MUSIC balanced on the chest of a sleeping Y.M.I.er, with Coop nearby, still writing:
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
But nobody seems to take it too seriously. Maybe everybody's too wrapped up still with graduating from high school to think about the music. I don't know. About the only thing anybody really thinks about is...
RESUME - AUDITORIUM - LATER
ON A MAP OF EUROPE, and a wooden pointer resting on
MRS. WHIPPLE (O.S.)
Paris.
She stands on stage next to the map, creating an EXCITED BUZZ among the Y.M.I.ers in the audience. Mrs. Whipple TAPS the pointer for attention:
MRS. WHIPPLE
Y.M.I. Y.M.I. Settle, please. Settle.
(they settle)
Our basic itinerary then takes us south through France, across the Franco-Swiss border, into Austria and Salzburg, then finally up to Denmark and the Copenhagen Music Festival in Tivoli Gardens.
More BUZZING. More TAPPING. Fitz grins slyly, speaking for the benefit of his three compatriots:
FITZ
I wonder if there'll be time for a little side trip to Amsterdam...
VOICE
I'd be "up" for that.
The voice comes from a YOUTH in sunglasses with his head resting casually on the seatback in front of them. With a minimum of movement, he places a hand over his shoulder, palm up, to receive appreciative low fives for his wit from Head, Coop, Pio, and Fitz.
COOP'S DIARY (V.O.)
Oh, yeah, that reminds me, there's another guy everybody knows. He's kind of hard to describe. You know that character Snoopy sometimes plays...?
INSERT - HALLWAY - (ANOTHER) DAY
where the sunglassed youth, arms folded, leans against a locker in his best "Joe Cool" pose, meeting the foursome for the first time: