Julianna Cossman
The Conductor – Background/Synopsis
LA Plays Itself
The main character in this script is based off of the current Music Director and Composer for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Gustavo Dudamel, deemed as one of the most decorated conductors of our generation. In this story, Venezuelan REINALDO (23) is a young and fiercely talented orchestral conductor that just graduated from the most prestigious music school in Germany. After demonstrating his talents in competitions, Reinaldo is noticed by prominent composers from around the world and is offered the chance to debut his conducting career with the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Walt Disney Music Hall in downtown LA. Torn between leaving his family and chasing his dream, Reinaldo ultimately decides to take the honorable conducting position at the recently opening music hall. Arriving in Los Angeles in the summer of 2003, Reinaldo begins training with the orchestra while living in a condominium in the city, adjacent and in complete view of the music hall. As the days become numbered to the grand opening of the music hall, Reinaldo finds himself struggling with the pressures from his career, and with the unfamiliar yet taunting nature of Los Angeles culture. He becomes possessed by his music, and consumed with his guilt of following his dream and not his father’s.
My god!
REINALDO
REINALDO
ELOISA (O.S.)
Reinaldo?
Yes?
No…
FADE OUT
The Conductor – Background/Synopsis
LA Plays Itself
The main character in this script is based off of the current Music Director and Composer for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Gustavo Dudamel, deemed as one of the most decorated conductors of our generation. In this story, Venezuelan REINALDO (23) is a young and fiercely talented orchestral conductor that just graduated from the most prestigious music school in Germany. After demonstrating his talents in competitions, Reinaldo is noticed by prominent composers from around the world and is offered the chance to debut his conducting career with the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Walt Disney Music Hall in downtown LA. Torn between leaving his family and chasing his dream, Reinaldo ultimately decides to take the honorable conducting position at the recently opening music hall. Arriving in Los Angeles in the summer of 2003, Reinaldo begins training with the orchestra while living in a condominium in the city, adjacent and in complete view of the music hall. As the days become numbered to the grand opening of the music hall, Reinaldo finds himself struggling with the pressures from his career, and with the unfamiliar yet taunting nature of Los Angeles culture. He becomes possessed by his music, and consumed with his guilt of following his dream and not his father’s.
The Conductor
By
Julianna Cossman
The Walt Disney Music Hall in Downtown Los Angeles
LA Plays Itself 2013
EXT. - PROMENADE CONDOMINIUMS - MORNING
A mid-summer morning in downtown LA, the sun, the heat, and
the traffic all rise simultaneously.
The pearly white Promenade Condominiums stand adjacent of
the WALT DISNEY CONCERT HALL, the American, stainless steel
equivalent of the Sydney Opera House.
The glare off it’s surface grows stronger as the sun rises
over the city.
INT. - REINALDO’S CONDO - MORNING
The thermostat reads 83 degrees, now 84. Light slowly begins to fill the condo, revealing its tidiness and spaciousness. A elegant looking violin is propped in the corner of the living room. Abstract art decorates the walls and tabletops.The light escalates quickly, beaming unnaturally bright into
the room. An oil painting on the wall begins to moisten.
Reinaldo is soaked in sweat as he tosses and turns in bed.
The impressive amount of plaques decorating the walls begin
to glisten as the light creeps its way into his room. Some
represent Reinaldo’s achievements with the violin, others
for conducting. Reinaldo stirs and slips into a dream.
INT. - REINALDO’S PARENTS’ HOME - NIGHT
(REINALDO’S DREAM)
Inside his parents’ home in Barquisimeto, Venezuela,
Reinaldo sits across a candlelit table from his father,
GUSTAVO (65). He glares at Reinaldo distastefully.
(CONVERSATION IN SPANISH)
GUSTAVO
You could lead at the The Palais
Garnier, and you choose this
American discotech-
REINALDO Father, it is an honor to conduct at-
GUSTAVO
Honor? You’re telling me that
conducting at a venue with no
history and no substance is
honorable?
REINALDO
I will begin its history. I’d say
that is pretty honorable.
GUSTAVO
All the school, all the money
Reinaldo. Your mother and I, we
worked hard for your gift. How
disappointed she would be to see
you now.
Gustavo stands up suddenly and rushes towards Reinaldo’s
violin perched nearby. Reinaldo tries to get up after him,
but he is stuck to his chair turning his dream into a
nightmare.
REINALDO Father? What are you doing?! Please!
GUSTAVO
This is beauty.
Gustavo grips the violin violently and returns to sit at the
table. He lays it on the table and slowly begins to pluck
its strings out of the frame. One by one they snap and coil.
GUSTAVO I forbid it to serinade such an ugly place.
INT. - REINALDO’S CONDO - MORNING
Reinaldo snaps awake. Drenched in sweat, he stumbles into
the hallway, squinting as he moves towards the light that is
his living room. Honing in on the thermostat that now reads
93, Reinaldo fumbles to crank the AC with no luck.
REINALDO
Unbelievable.
He turns to enter the kitchen and is blinded by an ungodly
glare. The silhouette of the contorted building flashes only
for a second before Reinaldo stumbles to sheild his eyes.
REINALDO
My god!
He begins to fall but catches himself on a smoldering hot
metal chair nearby. He winces and snaps it away instantly.
REINALDO
Fuck!
CONTINUED:
Reinaldo fills a glass of water at kitchen sink. He raises
his hand to the window of the sink, and flattens his palm an
inch from the glass feeling the heat radiating from the
windows. Beads of sweat roll down his face as his eyes’
focus shift from his hand to the Music Hall across the
street that is cooking his condo. Lowering his hand, he
closes his eyes in frustration. A drip of paint adds to the
pile already formed on the couch below the oil painting in
the living room.
EXT. - WALT DISNEY MUSIC HALL - DAY
Downtown LA is bustling with activity. Businessmen and women
swarm the sidewalks surrounding the Music Hall. Reinaldo
hides behind dark sunglasses as he strolls to work. As he
hums a complicated tune, he begins to wave his hands
accordingly, simulating his conduction of the piece. With
each step he becomes more consumed in his
performance.
ALFREDO (30), a violinist in the orchestra,
runs to catch up with Reinaldo.
ALFREDO Hello Mr. Dudamel. Beautiful day isn’t it?
Reinaldo is caught off guard, but plays it off. They walk
together.
REINALDO
Call me Reinaldo, Alfredo, you’re
older than me, and no this day has
been rather hellish.
ALFREDO
Oh no, why is that? This city, the
weather, the women, this place
might be paradise.
REINALDO Does paradise have buildings that melt people?
ALFREDO
I’m sorry, what Mr. Dudamel?
REINALDO
It’s Reinaldo, please. I mean the
Music Hall, it’s exterior has been
getting so hot in the sunlight it
turns my condominium into an
inferno.
The two of them pause next to eachother in front of the
stainless steel bulding and gaze up at it. Alfredo squints
from the glare.
ALFREDO
The concert hall is trying to melt
its conductor, absolutely
fantastic!
REINALDO Perhaps my father is right. This place is ugly and its a death trap.
ALFREDO
It’s where you belong Reinaldo!
Without you this place would not be
half the venue it is being chalked
out to be.
Reinaldo is touched to hear this.
REINALDO
Wow, thank you really.
ALFREDO
Of course, but I do still think
it’s trying to kill you.
Reinaldo and Alfredo break into laughter, and together they
enter.
INT. - MAIN AUDITORIUM/ORCHESTRA FLOOR - DAY
In the breathy main auditorium of the Music Hall, Reinaldo
stands in front of his orchestra conducting them in the same
song he was humming outside.
As he whips his hands wildly, the music sinks and jumps,
reverberating off of the curved Douglas fir and Alaskan
yellow cedar walls. The musicians jerk back and forth on
their instruments as Reinaldo absorbs himself deeper into
the symphony.
Beads of sweat begin drip off the strands of Reinaldo’s
curly hair that have been whiplashed out of his slicked back
hairdo. As the music escalates, Reinaldo hands move faster
than his mind as he begins to feel weary. Pushing on, the
orchestra reaches its peak releasing the most epic portion
of the piece. Overwhelmed, Reinaldo becomes winded and the
orchestra fades instantly.
REINALDO
(In between deep breaths)
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s take it
from the top. And one, and two…
Reinaldo attempts to recompose himself. As he spreads his
hands to begin, a hand lands on his shoulder and the
orchestra lets out a subtle sigh of relief. He turns to see
GERALD KING (55), Music Director of the LA Philharmonic
holding out a cold bottle of water.
GERALD You look great. Take a break, let’s talk.
INT. - MAIN AUDITORIUM/AUDIENCE SEATS - DAY
Gerald and Reinaldo sit in the empty audience facing the
orchestra. Reinaldo stares at the gigantic organ in the
center of the auditorium. His attention drifts from Gerald,
who has been doing all the talking for sometime.
GERALD
You know Reinaldo, we could not be
more proud to have you with us but
you have to take some time to rest.
We need you to be in the best
condition for opening night.
REINALDO
(re: the organ)
It truly does look like french
fries.
GERALD
Pardon me?
REINALDO
The organ, sir, I’m sorry. Trust
me, I’ll be ready.
GERALD
I believe you Reinaldo, but none of
the best conductors daydream about
french fries before their debut
night.
REINALDO
I will stay focused, sir. I will
not disappoint this orchestra or
you.
GERALD
Fabulous. Will you parents be
coming to watch their son shine?
REINALDO
My mother is dead, sir, and my
father, well, I don’t know if he
will be here.
GERALD
I’m sorry about your mother son,
but perhaps you could give your
father a call. He should be here.
REINALDO
I would but my cellphone melted.
GERALD
Your cellphone melted? But how?
REINALDO
The building, sir. This Music Hall...
Reinaldo is distracted by a beautiful, auburn haired
cellist. She crosses the orchestra, and takes her seat. The
color of her cello nearby exactly matches her hair color.
GERALD
Reinaldo. I’m not following you,
but that’s Eloisa. She is one of
the most talented cellists from
South America. We brought her on
board recently after our lead
cellist revealed himself to be
quite the pussyfoot. I see it did
not take long for you to notice
her.
Reinaldo becomes mesmerized by her every movement. He
watches her as she picks up her instrument and props it by
her side. Her gracefulness shows as she begins to gently
flip through her music sheets. For a moment, she glances up
and catches Reinaldo staring. He snaps out of it.
GERALD
Exceptional, isn’t she?
REINALDO
Quite, sir, quite.
INT. - MAIN AUDITORIUM/ORCHESTRA FLOOR - DAY
Reinaldo makes his way back to his position in front of the
orchestra. Eloisa follows him with her eyes. Shuffling
through his sheets, he looks to up and meets her gaze.
ELOISA
I watched you perform your violin
solo at the Royal Opera House in
London. I never felt such a
pleasant sensation in my ears.
REINALDO
That was over five years ago. Such
a small world to meet here now.
Eloisa stands up from her seat and heads over to Reinaldo
with her hand out.
ELOISA
Eloisa Marsales, truly an honor to
meet you Mr. Dudamel.
REINALDO Call me Reinaldo. A pleasure to meet you.
ELOISA
I am so nervous about the opening
this weekend. This is my first time
leading this size of an orchestra.
REINALDO
Don’t worry, you will do fine. Is
this your first time is LA?
ELOISA
I traveled here once with my
parents many years ago. They wanted
to check out every American music
school to ensure I wasn’t missing
out over here.
REINALDO
Where did you end up?
ELOISA
Juilliard. My parents thought it
was for the best, but that city
almost ate me alive.
REINALDO
Well, you’re here now.
ELOISA
Yes, fortunately. This city has
calmed me. They say the air here is
filled with smog, but I feel like I
can breathe clearer than ever
before.
REINALDO
(Chuckling)
What an illusion it imposes!
ELOISA Yes I suppose. So, do you live downtown?
The members of the orchestra begin to take their seats.
Before he can answer her, Eloisa has already made her way
back to her seat. She adjusts herself and shoots a
flirtatious look at Reinaldo. He raises his baton and smiles
back.
EXT. - WALT DISNEY MUSIC HALL - NIGHT
The streets surrounding the Music Hall are now quiet. The
business men and women have fleed to the outskirts of the
city for the night.
Reinaldo takes in the quiet city as he walks home. A pair of
homeless men quarrel on the corner ahead. He examines them
as he passes.
INT. - PROMENADE CONDOMINIUMS/MAIL ROOM - NIGHT
Reinaldo pulls a stack of mail out of his mailbox. Fumbling
through, he notices the unforgettable image of the
Venezuelan stamp and removes it from the pile. The envelope
reads:
REINALDO DUMADEL
121 SOUTH HOPE STREET
LOS ANGELES, CA 90012
No return address is labeled, but Reinaldo recognizes his
father’s handwriting. Eager to read it, he flips his finger
under the flap to rip it open.
ELOISA (O.S.)
Reinaldo?
Reinaldo jumps. He drops all of the mail onto the floor.
Just as Reinaldo kneels to pick it up, Eloisa falls to her
knees and quickly collects it.
ELOISA Oh no! I did not mean to startle you!
REINALDO
Eloisa! Do you live here?
ELOISA
Yes, and it seems you do as well.
They rise at the same time. An awkward moment of
synchronization. Reinaldo is stunned by her beauty.
REINALDO
Uh, yes. My supporters at the Music
Hall set me up here.
ELOISA
Me also! When I moved to LA I had
no idea where to begin looking to
live. Luckily, Disney had us
covered. I guess they want to keep
an eye on the two of us, huh?
Reinaldo falls concerned for a moment.
REINALDO
Well I hope not.
ELOISA
(Chuckling)
You’re funny. Are you headed in for
the night?
REINALDO
Yes. I was planning on finishing
my piece of music. I’ve been
working on it for decades it seems.
ELOISA
Oh okay, well good luck on it.
Since we are neighbors we should
grab a coffee sometime. I found a
darling place over on Bunker Hill.
REINALDO
I would love that.
ELOISA
Great! Well, I’ll see you bright
and early.
In a rush, Eloisa turns to exit but Reinaldo stops her.
REINALDO
Hey Eloisa?
ELOISA
Yes?
REINALDO
Has your condo been melting?
ELOISA
No…
REINALDO
Oh, nevermind. Have a goodnight,
see you tomorrow.
ELOISA
Ok, see you tomorrow.
Eloisa, confused but charmed, turns to exit.
INT. - REINALDO’S CONDO - NIGHT
A hauntingly beautiful violion solo melody fills the space.
The living room is lit dimly by a ornate table lamp in the
corner of the room. Its angled towards Reinaldo stroking his
instrument nearby. In and out, his arm jerks as the notes
whine out of the violin.
Outside the window, the Music Hall glistens with blue light
amongst the cityscape. Lights flicker near and far in the
night.
Reinaldo unleashes one of the most emotional violin solos he
ever has. As he winds the song down to its finish, he stops,
ponders for a moment, and begins frustratingly scratching
notes onto his music sheets. He gazes up through the window
out at the Music Hall, and then over to his father’s
unopened letter on the kitchen table. He closes his eyes and
raises the violin back up under his chin. The bow gently
aligns itself on the strings.
The first stroke sends Reinaldo back ten years into a
memory.
INT. - EL SISTEMA, VENEZUELA - DAY
A young Reinaldo, front and center on stage, playing wildly
on the violin. A full crowd is mesmerized in front of him.
Other young boys and girls fill the front row, holding their
instruments and watching in awe.
In the crowd, Gustavo and his wife MARIA (40) watch their
son intently. Gustavo watches with criticism, his mother
with pride.
Reinaldo finishes the song, and the crowd delivers a
standing ovation. He stands and bows. Looking up into the
crowd he meets his mother’s tear-filled eyes and he smiles.
As he waves with excitement and thanks to the crowd, a tear
forms under his eye and rolls down his cheek.
INT. - REINALDO’S CONDO - NIGHT
The tear on young Reinaldo’s face blends into a tear rolling
down modern day Reinaldo’s face as he strokes on his violin.
He wears a slight smile scrunched by the pressure of his
chin pushed against his shoulder. The melody grows bolder,
filling the night.
FADE OUT
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