Original subtitles

Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me.

Me, me, me, me, me, me, me. Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do.

Do, ti, la, so, fa, mi, re, do.

Yeah, Uncle Martin, look.

I've got my fingers on a D7, see? Now, look.

I guess I better take lessons.

Well, you little old Martian moonshiner, you. I guess you'll be the first

interplanetary bootlegger, huh? Tim, I find your allegation highly imaginative,

but incorrect.

This happens to be a model of Martian audio energy converter.

Oh.

I thought it was something complicated.

As you know, Tim, energy can change its form just as water can change from a

fluid to solid ice or steam.

That much I knew. The converter simply changes musical energy into liquid form.

I was just processing music I had pre -recorded before you entered.

Do you mean that that stuff is music juice?

Mm -hmm.

Martian musical distillate, to be precise.

Martians apply it to the body and enjoy music as a total sensation.

That's a gas.

One of my most memorable musical experiences on Mars was slipping into a

of Beethoven's Fifth.

Well, they'll be selfish. Come on, let me try it.

Very well.

But just a drop.

Because the effects are quite different on Earth people.

That's funny.

I don't feel a thing.

How'd I do it?

The distillate is too volatile for your primitive neural system, so it ionized,

thus causing you to play the music just as it was recorded.

Well, spray on, Macduff. Birdland, here I come.

No, Tim.

If you want a musical career, you must earn it through effort.

Victory cheaply won is a hollow crown.

Oh, come on now, Uncle Martin. I can't be washed up that fast.

You're not washed up, Tim.

You're dried out.

Senator Martin, Mrs. Brown wants us to, uh... Uncle Martin?

Uncle Martin, I think I plinked when I should have plunked.

Uncle Martin, it

worked great before.

What happened?

You used too much distillate. Your musical ability factor couldn't absorb

the energy backed up and destroyed your guitar.

Well, I hope this teaches you not to tinker with unknown devices.

If you'd been playing the trombone at the time, you'd have blown us all

the roof.

There.

Now I can spray on the right amount.

It's Mrs. Brown.

Oh, I forgot.

Mrs. Brown is playing piano for her ladies' guild meeting today, and we're

supposed to go down and listen.

Put this in the cabinet and tell Mrs. Brown we're on the way.

I'd better get this thing out of sight. You know something?

It does look like a bootlegger still.

Oh, yeah.

Oh,

Tim, hurry!

Our treasurer's just giving her report on foreign aid and knitting, and then

going to play the piano under new business.

Where's your uncle? Isn't he coming?

Oh, Uncle Martin. Yes, well, sure he is.

Well, I better get him. You know how men are.

No, Mrs. Brown, you can't. You see, he, um, uh, well, he's hiding something.

Yeah, he's hiding your birthday present. That's what it is.

Happy birthday.

Oh, well, now, how did you know my birthday was next month?

Oh, I don't know. It was just some kind of a wild, wild guess.

Why don't you just go back to your meeting and we'll be right down, okay?

all right, but hurry up.

Our chairwoman is Mrs. Wooster, and she hates to be kept waiting.

It bothers her sinuses.

So Mrs. Wooster's downstairs.

I wonder if that had anything to do with it.

With what? The pain in the neck I've had all morning.

But they're on the way, Mrs. Wooster.

Can't we wait a bit longer?

That's up to you and the other girls, Loralee.

I wouldn't dream of rushing you if it weren't for my head.

It's not important.

Another sinus headache?

Migraine.

Loralee, how can you be so inconsiderate? I think we should... Oh,

I'll hurry.

Her tenants. I don't know what the uncle does, but Tim O 'Hara is with the

newspaper. Local news.

Local news?

Isn't that interesting?

Oh, Mrs. Worcester.

I'd like you to meet my friends. This is Martin O 'Hara.

A pleasure, Mrs. Wooster.

Mrs. Brown speaks of you so glowingly, I've come to regard you as a legend.

Yes. You needn't apologize for detaining us.

Well, I didn't intend... And you must be Tim O 'Hara.

You want details for your story about Our Lady's Guild.

You are in local news, aren't you?

Well, yes, Mrs. Wooster.

Oh, I wouldn't dream of imposing.

I'm not well enough to press the point.

If you're not interested, I can't... Well, it's not that I'm not interested.

Oh, I know you'll do a marvellous job on the story you'll write about us.

Ladies, let us begin our search for musical talent.

Well, she wrote me in.

Tim, you've just been manipulated by a woman who gets what she wants by

remembering that old Phoenician adage.

What's that?

Speak softly, but cry a lot.

Our first contestant will be Mrs. Brown.

Loralee, quickly, dear.

I need my music.

I left it at Tim's place when I was dusting.

No, no, no. Now, you just sit still. I don't want you to miss a thing. I'll be

right back.

Well, let's go on.

Our next contestants will be a musical trio.

Ladies.

I can't recall ever having heard anything more original.

And one.

Marvelous.

Uncle Morton, she's great.

You were just as good earlier today.

Oh, sure.

But I had your jazz juice.

Your jazz juice?

She must have used the distillate when she went to get her music.

Tim, this could be serious.

What's serious? So she'll win the talent search, that's all. Now, who could that

possibly hurt?

Come on, Mrs. Brown.

Well, that's it, I guess.

At least I... Well, I can't play anymore.

I hear you were marvelous.

Ladies, I move... the Laura Lee B. Name winner of our musical talent search by

unanimous consent.

Oh, I'm so excited.

And furthermore, because of her gifts for piano, I move that she be made the

soloist at our forthcoming charity musicale.

Hooray.

You heard Mrs. Brown play before she used the distillate. Yeah, she was

miserable.

Oh, yeah.

She was miserable.

Mr. O 'Hara, the story of Loralee Brown, unknown and unsung until I summoned her

forth to meet her destiny.

Oh, I'm so excited. Oh, thank you for discovering me.

But Loralee, don't you think you're being a bit premature?

A concert isn't... Mr. O 'Hara, a star is born.

I've been so busy practicing for the musicale, well, I've just been in a

This morning, I almost put starch in the birdbath.

Wouldn't that be awful?

Well, I'd have a yard full of stiff robins.

Um, about your, um, concert debut, Laura Lee.

Oh, I'm so excited.

Well, we know, yes, but we'd really like to know.

Oh, my brownies are in the oven. Excuse me, I don't want them to burn.

Well?

What are you going to do? You tell me.

You're the Martian.

Oh, as I see it, we can't tell Loralee that she can't play. That would hurt her

feelings. You're right. It wouldn't be very nice to say, Mrs. Brown, your

The purpose of the musicale is to raise money for charity.

And that's terribly important to Loralee.

All right, so the musicale is for charity. So what?

It won't even make two cents if she sits down and plays.

Everyone will ask for their money back.

Everything's all right.

I forgot to turn the oven on.

Would you like some nuts?

Well, Laura Lee, Tim has just been commenting that your musicale will give

proceeds to charity.

Yes, all the ticket money goes to charity.

We'd better sell an awful lot of tickets.

Do you think we will?

Well, I don't know, Laura Lee. That depends on your performance.

Martin, I can't play that concert. There aren't that many people who'd pay to

hear me. We need a major attraction.

An excellent idea, Laura Lee. And I'd like to suggest one of the world's

foremost concert pianists.

Oh, well, that'd be wonderful.

Why, we'd say... Oh, no.

Your brownie's burning again?

No. When I turned the oven on, I forgot to put them in.

Well, I've got to hand it to you.

Who's this concert pianist you're going to get?

Professor Ilya Politnikov.

Politnikov? Mm -hmm.

The Politnikov that I interviewed for the paper last year? Yes. Don't you

remember? You said he was one of the world's greats. Yeah.

Was, was right. He won't play anymore. He's retired.

All he wants to do is teach.

Matter of fact, he told me himself, he said, no one in this world could ever

him to play again.

Perhaps. But remember, Tim, your Uncle Martin is out of this world.

And this must be your Uncle Martin. Martin O 'Hara, Maestro Politnikov.

good. But first, I don't play concerts anymore.

No.

Now, gentlemen, let's sit down and talk about something else. Please.

Please, sit down here, Mr. O 'Hara. It's a nice chair. Thank you very much,

Maestro Politnikoff. But I wish that you would reconsider because a performance

by Politnikoff would be of great value to his students.

Mr. O 'Hara, my students don't need to hear me play. They need me to teach

Please, Mr. O 'Hara, sit down here. This is a good place. Right, right. Thank

you. Besides,

teaching is my whole life.

Ah, teaching.

An activity requiring a high degree of orderly planning and disciplined

preparation. Just like the concert stage.

Yes, that's my life.

Order. Meticulous concern for fine detail.

Modernization in all things.

My life is all order and discipline.

This can't be our pianist. I mean, I don't think in all this mess he could

his own piano.

Litnikoff is a genius by Earth standards, Tim.

Commonplace things can escape his notice.

But once he's forced to look around him, I think he'll want to play at the

musicale and resume his concert career.

Oh? Well, force him.

Force him.

Now, gentlemen, let's continue our talk.

With pleasure, Professor.

I'm particularly interested in your fine library.

I don't imagine you'd let your students use it.

They're very careless.

Yes. I don't understand their lack of discipline.

And as you can see, my library is thoroughly organized. It's disciplined.

My pipe.

Where could it have gone?

The piano. I must have left it over there.

Music, papers, manuscripts.

How can you find anything in such a... Would mess be the word you're groping

for, Professor?

Mr. O 'Hara, you have hit the proverbial point exactly on the pitch.

No wonder my pupils are a mess.

I'm a mess.

This whole place is a mess.

You're right.

I'm afraid I haven't set too good an example.

Then why not begin by being guest star of the Ladies League Musicale?

What better way to get back into harness and prove disciplined preparation to

your students?

I like it. I like the idea.

Very well, Mr. O 'Hara, your troubles are over. You have me.

Mr. O 'Hara, how could you?

Well, I'm afraid we can't reveal that, Mrs. Wooster. You see, the important

thing is, we did get Politnikoff. And that will certainly enhance your charity

fund, Mrs. Wooster. That is, if that is your primary concern.

Well, of course it is.

Wait, you can always discover me another time.

We won't have another concert until next year.

Oh, dear, another sinus attack?

No, this time. It's an idea.

Why can't we have Politnikov and you?

My husband is on the university board.

I'm sure he could make the professor understand.

The two of you could play a duet.

A duet?

Yes. Mrs.

Brown and... Oh, that's a fabulous idea.

Say, how about Swan Lake?

Well, that depends.

If you want it for playing or drowning.

That deserves a hand.

And Mrs. Brown will get this in the form of hand lotion.

I must prepare it immediately for the musicale tomorrow night. And no matter

what, Tim, one of us must make sure Loralee uses it.

Now, what's a nice girl like you doing in a nice place like this?

Observing. I study composition with Professor Politnikoff.

Really? Well, it, um, it paid off.

You've got nice composition.

Now, don't go away.

Oh, Tim. Oh, I'm glad you're here.

I'm getting nervous just waiting.

Why? There's nothing to worry about. You still have that hand lotion that Uncle

Martin gave you? Oh, yes, yes. It'd be so thoughtful.

Well, then everything's just fine.

See you.

Strange young man.

As soon as the concert's over, we'll just go out for a little dinner. Just

two of us together. Now,

stay. Oh,

will you relax? Everything's cool.

Too cool, Tim.

The theater is air -conditioned. That means it's being steadily dehumidified.

If the humidity is lowered anymore, the musical distillate will evaporate and

Mrs. Brown will be in trouble.

I'll have to get into the air -conditioning room and make sure the

is on.

You just keep an eye on Mrs. Brown.

And make sure she uses the lotion. Uh -huh. Count on me.

I'm afraid I'm limited to that.

Now.

My hands are freezing.

Oh, well, I've got something for that.

Martin says Van Cliburn uses it all the time.

Well, if it's good enough for him, it's certainly good enough for me.

Hey!

Miss Brown, your hand lotion!

Marvelous. It was absorbed immediately.

Very refreshing.

Oh, now look, whatever you do, don't move. Stay right there. Stay there.

move.

Martin, what?

The hand lotion.

Tim, I heard it just as I materialized. Why didn't you watch her more closely?

Never mind. This is very serious.

Without the lotion containing distillate, Mrs. Brown will be

I'm sorry, Uncle Martin. I tried.

Really, I did. I'm sure.

But more with the young lady than with Mrs. Brown.

And to make matters worse, the distillate has a reverse effect on

geniuses like Maestro Politnikoff.

In fact, there was enough distillate in that hand lotion to make him a musical

nincompoop. Well, do something.

Do anything. Make some more.

It's too late.

She's announced them.

Tim, I can't let both Mrs. Brown and Maestro Politnikoff look ridiculous.

Neither one of them would ever quite recover from it.

pianos, Tim.

But they're about to play.

They'll think they are.

just don't believe it.

Well, Tim, as I once said to Bill Shakespeare when we were collaborators,

well that ends.

Child's house? But how?

I mean, I thought she couldn't. She must have gotten her hands on some of my

musical distillers, but I don't know how.

Well, hello, boys.

Hello, Mrs. Brown. We thought we heard sounds of a piano coming from your

Oh, yes. Isn't it lovely? Come on in. You'll really enjoy it.

She's not very modest about it.

Sit down and listen.

Isn't it just wonderful?

Isn't what wonderful?

The player piano, silly.

Professor Politnikoff sent it to me as a gift for my playing the concert with

him.

Now I can accompany myself while I master the cello.