Keith Snyder
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Morty Quiddick, Opera Critic

This week I cut a musical number from CUPID & PSYCHE, the original feature-length screen musical I've been working toward since CREDO.

Two reasons:

Well, three, actually: Third, I went through the screenplay again because I'm sending it to someone, and decided to finally listen to the little voice and cut.

Two reasons:
  1. It was the first number, but it's not a First Number kind of number. It's more a Fourth Number kind of number--clever, but not powerful, and not a manifestation of the film's main identity.

  2. All my musical numbers are story elements, not just somebody yammering about their feelings. This one is too. It's a setup. But the payoff, while it does come--Morty hands down judgment about our hero's upstart indie production--isn't big enough to justify an entire musical number near the beginning of the film.

A while ago, I posted the lyrics to ANYTHING CAN BE ART, a musical number that got cut from an early draft. So here's one that got cut at the very end.



DEDE and CAROLYN join ALEX, ANDREA, and the CHORUS. From the
hatbox, Dede distributes sheet music and knitting needles,
then puts a doll in a rumpled brown suit on the piano.

This is for Morty Quiddick,
everyone's favorite classical

(to Carolyn)
Every first rehearsal, we sing how
stupid he is, and then we stick
pins in him.

Morty Quiddick, opera critic
Comes in late and misses half the prelude!
Leaves before the start of the finale!
Snores through Act I! -- Morty Quiddick!
Snores through Act II! -- Snorty critic!

Mortimer Q. loves a vicious review.
He'll demolish a show to
Which he didn't go to.
And if you protest,
Your most tactful of gestures
Is called by dear Morty
Uncouth and unsporty!
This mean little predator's
Beloved by his editors.
While you dodge your creditors,
They in their Mediterranean
Villas and mansions in France
Laugh so hard that they wet
Their Italian pants.

And then casually request
One more slanderous review
From our most unwelcome guest,
(He's a smelly little pest.)
That would be old you-know-who!
Morty Quiddick, opera critic,
A reviewer, not a do-er,
His massacres are pure irascible manure
Like gases from the sewer, flatulence du jour
From a nasty evildoer, an assassin we endure.
He's a rash without a cure,
Morty Quiddick - tin ear!
Snorty critic - can't hear!
Morty Quidiculous, warty ridiculous
Prickulous, rickety, sick, icky--

(low note)

The knitting needles are stuck into the doll. Carolyn smiles-
maybe this will work out after all.


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